


Snap Out of It

by DreadfulStar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempted Murder, Brain Damage, Childhood Friends, Depression, Faking Long Term Injury, Flirtatious Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Muteness, Organized Crime, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Socially Awkward Character, Suicidal Thoughts, Supposedly Disabled Character, University, falling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29325183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadfulStar/pseuds/DreadfulStar
Summary: For the longest time, Adam never gave much attention to things outside schoolwork. His mother was uptight and demanding and his father set the standards high by being a successful surgeon. So, naturally, he devoted his life to school. In high school, Charles, better known as Charlie, took pity on the stressed kid. Now, both attending Yale, no one could deny they were close as best friends.As winter break approaches, Charlie ropes Adam into going to finally meet his parents despite the years of them being seemingly off limits. Unfortunately, going to the Marin’s home may be Adam’s biggest mistake. After a series of terrifying discoveries, Adam must make a disheartening sacrifice to stay alive, as much as it hurts him and the friend he so desperately cares about.The problem is... how long can he keep the act up? After all, it’s play the role or be killed.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off a dream universe I consistently dreamed about. I was the main character, Adam. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I decided to flesh it out. There is a Spotify playlist too for this.

The vinyl record playing at the moment, nestled neatly on my adjacent dresser, played smoothly and crisp. No surprise, as the vinyl likely hasn’t existed much longer than perhaps a month before I bought it, manufactured swiftly and easily. Modern vinyl rarely had the comforting stiff weight of those in the past and often had a lingering sense of static cling I couldn’t stand fresh from the package, but the excitement of opening one new overrode that distaste. I couldn’t bring myself to put up posters from inside or use anything not as intended, so I neatly folded everything large back into the sleeve when not in use along with lyric sheets or other merchandise. My side of the room, at times, looked unlived in. In contrast, while I so dearly loved my friend, the other half of the room had two uneven posters that I was _not_ permitted to shift and various states of disarray. It was, by all means, normal. Normal frustrated me. 

I listened to it intently, knowing each lyric and anticipating the next. I had things to be doing, as I always did, but I still enjoyed taking time to devote to things I liked. Meanwhile, I would never completely distract myself from importance like my roommate. Even while enjoying my records, I was still passively working. I couldn’t drop the academia mindset. My roommate, however, I had never known him to be necessarily academic. Sure, he was good at mathematics and economics, but he was terribly average at best in other categories. The more liberal of the arts weren’t his forte. 

We met in high school. I had very limited experiences with friends and those who ever were interested to be a friend got intimidated by either my mother’s aggressive pursuit of prestige or my busy schedule. So, I usually returned to null. Charlie, my roommate, was my best friend by default, but he easily won the position with his presence. I thought I would miss him when I went to college. I had gotten accepted here at Yale to be a pre-medical undergraduate. I worked awfully hard to get in and yet, Charlie came to me with the huge surprise that he too had been accepted. Here, the student I wrote the English papers for and knew to be disinterested in extremely competitive higher education programs, holding the official packet with his full name, address, and everything declaring he too, Charles Wyatt Marin, had been accepted into the college as a mathematics major. 

I was shocked. He teased me when he first met me in high school for caring so much about the colleges I wanted to go into, so how couldn’t I be perplexed about how he got in? 

“Well, you are going, aren’t you?” I remember him asking. 

“Absolutely, but… how did you get in?”

He shrugged playfully. He always rerouted the question. “I wanted to follow you. You probably won’t make any friends up there. I’ve known you for almost four years and you do not have friend-making skills,” he pushed me gently. 

And, so, he really did. In fact, we roomed together, thankfully. I dreaded the idea of living with a stranger. For four years now, I’ve lived with him and, honestly, it was not terrible. After a while, you quickly got used to Charlie’s nearly boundaryless flirtation and platonic touching. He was overjoyed easily and an extroverted social dream. Meanwhile, I wondered why he really did like me. People often called me chilly due to my closed off nature, but in my own space, I could be far from closed-off. The prudence typically returned the moment I was in public or anywhere else I could be scorned, but I still stood my ground. Charlie called it “flaunting” whenever I had something sharp witted back at someone, which was often, but I didn’t care. That was, perhaps, a flaw of mine. I got unhealthily smug about my academic achievements and intelligence. I could always be reminded by the look on someone’s face after whatever tort I had ready. Obviously, it wouldn’t be so bad had people not been readily rude or hostile to me, but I learned early on in elementary school that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. I refused. Even here at Yale, there were the standard social cliques I could not bring myself to engage and that made me remain in the category of outcast. I didn’t want to go party with the other students and I certainly wasn’t going to waste my efforts pursuing anything dangerous. 

Charlie loved to do that, I didn’t. I had no other friends, so Charlie easily was my best friend… but why wasn’t someone else his? There had to be someone better than me; I did not see what made him so fond of me. Maybe, I was like a pet always being in the room if not obligated elsewhere and low maintenance (from others, at least). Charlie left me alone a majority of the time. 

Even now, with the fall semester finals glumly approaching and leaving every student with a sense of trepidation, Charlie was off doing whatever or whoever when he had class in the morning and assignments to finish. His priorities were flawed but he always rejected any “parental advice” I offered, according to him. He even accused me of parroting my mother. The nerve!

 _Hey_ , I thought, _at least I get to play the music he finds dull._

The vinyl was halfway through the track listing on side one now. I watched it cooly glide over the dark band between the audio grooves before sinking down and bobbing along into the next. 

_Oh, Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head…_

“And as I climb into an empty bed, oh well, enough said,” I mumbled along to the song. Admittedly, _The Smiths_ were not hard to sing along to. While not a talent of mine, my voice’s natural register at the casual, dry tone like that matched to the lethargic lyrics. Although, perhaps it wasn’t the best to find a similarity between oneself and Morrissey, the singer of the song, but who has the time for that debacle of ethical dilemma? Jeff Buckley’s cover of the song would win any competition, but I could not deny that I do, unfortunately, still like the music. Each lyric fell like raindrops. I knew this song by heart. 

“I know it’s over…” I continued before sighing. During this time, I was matching up project submission deadlines to my planner. I drummed my fingers, bouncing my attention between the planner whose pages were rough and splitting on the edge where I flipped them and the highlighted, most recently printed stack of syllabi. I repeated the phrase. 

“Listen,” I heard a loud voice interrupt the music, “you might know it’s over, but I didn’t. Are we breaking up?” 

I swiveled around to look back into the small, nestled hallway that separated the door from the rest of the room. I shook my head at him, rolling my eyes. 

“You know it’s just the song. Secondly, we aren’t _together_ and you _do_ know that,” I smiled lightly.

“It’s all sad and mopey and all about things being over!” Charlie declared, walking by the machine between him and the path to his bed. He lightly flicked the volume knob and lowered it nearly down to inaudible, especially for me when I already had been playing the song at a low level. He tossed his dark blue-jean field bag onto the bed before letting himself flop down beside it. His light blond hair with natural waves bounced as he flopped. My friend was slightly taller, attractive, pale blond, with a clean, heavily skin tone. I could see why he so easily could sway a girl into his direction batting his blue eyes. Although, he had never been one for sports. We had that in common. We, unfortunately, did not have music tastes in common.

Shaking my head, I went through the routine of shutting off the record player, letting the needle arm rest securely in place, flicking the guard over the arm, closing the lid, and nestling the vinyl back into the internal sleeve before storing it in the outer sleeve. My records were in a box beside the table, alphabetized by singer then by album. This meant the album went right behind _Meat is Murder_ by the same band. 

“You didn’t have to shut it off. I thought maybe I could hear you sing better,” Charlie responded after rolling onto his side and haphazardly tugging a pillow from along the wall under his folded arm where he supported his head. 

“Sing? For you? I would rather choke,” I answered. 

“You would prefer to choke! See, this is why you stressed-out, overworked kinds of students need to avoid this poetic babble hipster music. A knife doing slitting and sea that wants to take you? Allusion to being buried? Goodness, Adam, why fill your time alone with depression if you don’t have it? You are, right? What if that’s all you start to think about?” 

I pinched a tiny piece of my lip between my front teeth and gritted, “Those lyrics are from the near beginning of the song. Did you have a reason to walk in quietly and lurk in the doorway? Besides, it is not of your concern what I listen to or think about. I’m clearly not depressed. Look at how much I do. So, I’ll take my poetic babble.” 

Charlie lowered his eyebrows and frowned in genuine offense. He paused as I watched his more playful laxness in his posture tense up. He braced himself up on his elbow and put the arm he had been lazily resting over his head swing over to the front and also provide support. “Joking aside, man, you and I have different music tastes, sure, but the content can affect people in different ways. If you are always isolated here, holed up in the library, or at home being lectured on some… impossibly detectable failure your mother wants to have to alter or fix, then eventually you _must_ get burnt out. I don’t want you to get burnt out and then… get bad ideas. And-“ he gripped the bed sheet a bit before dropping his tension, scrunching his nose, and rolling away from me to face the wall. 

“Charlie…” I said, casting my eyes down, “I’m clearly not burnt out.”

“Whatever,” he finally said quietly, “listen to your music for dying to and get snobby about your so-perfect-made-only-to-work existence.”

I felt my energy drop along with a cold drumming in my chest. I hadn’t meant to offend him, no, _hurt_ him. 

“And, like I was about to say,” Charlie spoke in a gentle tone, “I just don’t want something bad to happen to you. I don’t know how you take care of yourself. I’m sure you must do whatever it is alone but… I’ve never seen you with a girl or really another human not from a project. I’ve been your friend for eight years. You and I are still young with a bunch of energy, but if you let that energy get drained for too long, it’ll hurt big time.” 

I looked at the multi-color coded planner, seeing some timelines merely minutes or hours from one another. I crossed my arms and slouched back into the dorm chair, “I know, okay? I’m not burnt out right _now_. If I do, then… I don’t know. I’ll research something up and look for solutions. I thought you weren’t big on unwarranted parental advice.”

Charlie sighed, “Adam, hear me out. I know you swear you are always fine and I want to believe you. I also worry about events that might lead you to not being fine. Do you think if you really crashed hard and lost the motivation to work that you’d seriously have the time or expendable effort to research help? No, you would lay there in your bed you make each morning, which is fucking creepy, dude, and sleep. You sleep and when you wake up, you feel like you are in pain and your body can’t find the source. So, what? Maybe you listen to music like that and listen about knives and drowning and how maybe working so hard won’t always be worth it.”

I shook my head, growing more frustrated at him. I was _fine_. I had those thoughts as much as anyone else does, which was… well, not zero. “Who cares if you think about something? What matters is that you don’t do it.”

Charlie quietly asked, “If you did, say, think about stuff, would you try to fix it sooner or later? At the beginning or when it hurt?”

I looked away into the dark shadow beneath my bed. Charlie couldn’t see me, I knew, but I felt wrong to show my face in case it betrayed me. School always stressed me out. I took my frustration out on myself, but never anything as severe as he must be imagining. Food could be deprived or sleep postponed in order to punish myself. I rarely lashed out hard enough to break through my skin; the most memorable exceptions being a frustrated stab of a pencil into my thigh through thin jeans and biting into my own hand a few times when something just _wasn’t making sense_. I knew my right thigh as it neared my knee was bruised from slamming down my fist during an exam review just last week. 

“Depends, what kind of thoughts? The talk about it kind or the involuntary hold kind with security on either side of me and one-to-two weeks in the state hospital with more work piling up I’d have to get back to,” I waited. 

Charlie shuffled before rolling back towards me, “That sounds like you’ve thought about it.”

“Why are you so persistent on this?” I interrupted him. 

Charlie tapped a finger onto the mattress and looked into the deep blue plaids on the covers. He held his mouth open for a bit before looking up, “You’ll be in here all alone for an entire semester with me taking a semester away. I want to graduate with you, but since you are taking an extra semester to fit your second major in… I’d be one ahead. I just really don’t want you to become too alone.”

I slowly turned back towards him, shaking my head passively in thought, “I’ve always been like this. There is nothing new.”

“False.”

“Huh?” I blinked. 

“False,” my friend reiterated, “you’ve never been alone like that. In high school, at home, you had both parents even if not home and your little brother every day after his daycare or school got out. Even if you were alone, it was a temporary slot of time just like now. You might not exactly vibe with a crowd, but you still need people. I know you do. If not, you wouldn’t talk to me or play games with me.”

“Are you in psychology this semester, or something?” I interjected more brightly than the current tone. “It kinda seems like you are taking the lectures too seriously. You don’t need to worry. I would never kill myself in this room, drown, or cut myself, like you implied.” 

Charlie squinted. I squinted back. 

“Yes, actually. I even like the class! I spoke to the professor in person and everything about stuff. Hmm, do something for me, please,” Charlie said with a low, serious voice. 

I raised my eyebrows and blinked, “Eh, okay? Like?”

“Repeat what you said.”

I blinked faster in confusion. I inhaled slowly while tilting my head, “Excuse me?”

“Repeat what you said about me not needing to worry. That and why.”

I opened my jaw to answer, letting it gently float with my thoughts as I thought through a response, “You don’t need to worry. I won’t kill myself here or do what you referenced in the song: drowning and cutting, or I suppose slitting throats, too. Either way, I won’t do that, so no worries.”

Charlie nodded, clearly thinking, “Okay, repeat it again, but stop being overly specific.”

“I won’t do anything I don’t want to do?”

At that, he frowned angrily at me, “Is this funny to you?”

“Okay… fine I won’t-“ _kill myself here,_ implying I might do it elsewhere if the need arises, which it wouldn’t, but hypothetically, I knew the method would be not within the room. I couldn’t just say I wouldn’t kill myself either because what if I did, for some reason? _Hurt myself?_ Obviously, this incorporates the first in a more vague way. Beating my leg in frustration, bashing the bony inner wrist of my fist into my cheeks when I wanted to cry, and any hand biting would certainly void this statement. I stared, trying to think of how to answer without answering anything truly at all. Damnit, Charles, why did you have to be smart about this. He didn’t know about anything bad I thought about, so I had no idea why he would be focused on it. Sure, the alone thing…

“I...” I said quietly. Charlie sat up on the bed, folding his hands into his lap and peering at me with growing concern. I knew he knew what the hesitation had meant for his answer, which he clearly didn’t like. 

Suddenly, I was surprised by Charlie sloughing off his bed and taking the few steps to appear behind my chair. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and upper chest from around the back, letting his head rest on my hair. I sighed but he only snugly held on. His lingering summer tan contrasted my natural paleness which was further vibrantly white from being inside, wearing long sleeved dress shirts outside, and the sturdy pale genetic inheritance of England’s most posh. 

“I figured,” Charlie said sadly as he rested more weight on me, “Come with me to my family’s place this winter break, please?”

“Why? I don’t know them.”

“Then you can get to know them! I want you to be somewhere new, somewhere different for once. Get a breath of change and recharge. We can have fun. Please? You can fly to your parent’s new house a week in if you insist. Just a week. I’ll drive, no problem.” Charlie must have had it planned out. 

I shook my head, logistically running over all the types of problems that could arise from it. Charlie had refused to let me meet his family before now. In fact, Charlie wasn’t allowed in my home for the longest time due to it because of my mother’s strict mother-to-mother discussion about ground rules. He insisted for so long that they weren’t my kind of people and certainly far from the kind my mother would like. Had I not known they owned a moderately high-traffic pawn and antique store with considerate square footage, I would’ve thought maybe they were drug dealers. Maybe they still were… Either way, something changed, right?

“I was thinking it would be fine because my dad isn’t going to be there the first week and my cousin, she’s a year older than me, will be there. So, just my mom and the three of us around the same age! We have part time workers for the store front and it’s going to be closed for three of the five days he’s gone. We can play with so many old things!” Charlie happily beamed into my dark hair.

I sighed again, something I knew I did far too often. I looked at him sadly in the reflection of my computer monitor which sat to my left on a black screen. He stared back at me with expectant eyes and a smirk. I held my look back. 

“You really would rather kill yourself, huh?” Charlie’s arms went slack. My eyes widened and I got hung up on a breath. 

Quickly, I pushed my chair from the desk and tore myself away from him. I faced him directly as I could feel my heart accelerating at the idea. My eyes blinked. My hands shook. My voice quivered, “What? No! No, I-I-I… didn’t say that! I just… No! What the actual fuck? Do you honestly think I’d prefer that than spend time with my best friend?” I thought I might cry. I would _not_ prefer being dead. 

Charlie had stumbled when I flung around to look at him. “So, you are coming then.”

I chomped my mouth shut, taking a deep breath before swaying over the side just far enough to push my face into a propped up fist. Eyes scrunched closed, I groaned from annoyance. It’s not a question. I was coming along, it seemed.

“Charlie?”

He looked up with a gentle eyebrow poised, “Yes?”

“I wish you were failing that fucking psychology course,” I jested the best I could, feigning my frustration and anxiety over the conversation.

“Thank you,” he poked my shoulder. I slowly gazed up at him without moving my head. He smiled, “I have a B+ standing.”

I shook my head at him. He kneeled back and I remained in my seat staring at him. He may have now grinned a small smile, but I could still see the lingering concern in his eyes. My face gradually felt hotter with the worsening realization of what just happened. I flicked my eyes away from him and instead stared into my bed frame to his left. I swallowed and felt my eyebrow twitch. 

“Adam?” Charlie asked.

I blinked and looked back at him, “Yeah?”

He opened his mouth and then stood up, brushing his hands over his knees and fixing his shirt. He itched his index finger across his thigh in the following awkward silence. Charlie darted his own eyes before slowly walking towards his bed before pausing and turning back with a slow inhale.

“I guess… to clarify… about that…” Charlie circled his hand in the air. 

I winced and turned back towards my desk, looking down into the tabletop. I knew I wasn’t finished, but this particular task was something I could always finish in the morning before class. In fact, I didn’t _need_ to. 

“Clarify visiting your house?”

Silence. 

“I just want to be sure there aren’t any misunderstandings. No, not about my house.”

Now the silence came from me. This was not the time to incriminate myself. “What do you think? Well, about what you may think about me.”

He sat on the bed, nervously swinging his legs. There appeared to be a growing apprehensive tension in terms of talking. 

“Charlie, really, I really want to know what you might think about me now. I don’t want something potentially false to change how you treat me, for example.” 

My friend folded his hands. The suspense was eating at my nerves. Finally, Charlie responded to me, “Okay, I interpreted it as… bad thoughts and hurting yourself. I honestly thought cutting because that’s what I always heard about but you did promise against that… so I don’t know? You’ve always been so hard on yourself and isolated, so I have somewhat suspected you might at some point. Living with your parents, too, in high school, made it seem more likely but I thought if anything it would’ve been in the past instead of present.”

I considered what he said. He wasn’t necessarily wrong and his thought process made complete sense. I appreciated his honesty. “Thank you.”

“Well?”

“Well?” I asked back. 

Charlie huffed. 

I pinched my nose. He was not going to let this down so I knew I would have to get to the point to get this over with. “Fine. Suicidal thoughts? Not really. I hope that makes you feel better, I really do. Have I been stressed enough to think that, yes. Do I know how I’d prefer to die if so, yes. Do I have intent? No. Do I genuinely think about it, no. Is it often, no. That is normal, right?”

I received only an unsure noise. I sighed. I thought to myself, _damn, I sigh a lot._

“Self-harm? Not in the way you are implying. Everyone harms themselves.”

Charlie interjected, “Don’t give me that!”

“Alright, alright, fine, I get mad and hit my leg for example. Or, maybe ball my fists and drum my wrists into my cheeks. By technicality, it counts. That’s why I was hesitant to say no. Not so bad, huh?” 

“Not the best… Adam, you seriously need self-care and relaxation.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

“Do you think you would, though? Even though you say you don’t have intent?” He asked. 

I closed my eyes, “Why would I?”

“Say… you didn’t get accepted into a program after this, or get turned down for jobs. A particularly bad fight with your mom? You get expelled, for some reason?”

“That’s highly unlikely.” 

“So?”

I considered it. My mother was horrid. She always held me to impossible standards. Even here, as far as I’ve gotten, I’m not quite perfect enough. Not to mention my father’s bizarre insistence I begin searching for a wife. I am only in my early twenties! A wife? I’d be happily surprised to have enough free time to be married by forty. Sometimes, perhaps this is how it started, I considered killing myself out of spite. That was early high school. After befriending Charlie, I started feeling awful at the idea. Spiteing her would be spiteing everyone. I couldn’t do that to a new friend, especially after his older brother had just been killed after being struck by a speeding car the year we met. 

“Hey!” 

“Hmm?” I focused my eyes back onto something and looked at him. 

“Would you?”

Instead of addressing it, I played it in reverse, “If your life was hypothetically ruined, would you?”

He sighed this time. At first, he appeared to accept this, but then snapped back, “Not getting into a PhD program first try is not your life being _ruined_ . I’m talking back to back hardship. Like, your girlfriend leaves you or you lose a job… so you get depressed. Because, if the thoughts are already potential and you _admitted to a method_ then what stops intent from switching from no to yes?” 

“Circumstances.”

He flung up his hands in frustration. 

“Charlie, I literally do not know what to tell you. I genuinely am stuck. Why are you so hard pressed on this? Today? Why is this conversation going on for so long? I’m done! We are done talking about this. You got your answer. Unless you _want_ me to do something, stop trying to figure out the best scenario for it!” I snapped and thumped my hand onto my desk. My wire pencil holder vibrated, shaking the pencils loudly. A folder shifted and fell from the stand beside the monitor. My pinky knuckle hurt. At that moment, I realized I had struck my desk far harder than intended. Instead of emphasis, I accidentally tried to intimidate. 

Charlie flinched, eyes wide at the outburst. I was normally calm. I had lost my temper only a few times before, and if so, only minorly when in front of someone. Alone, I remembered a few instances of rage, some even to the point of launching my belongings into a wall to watch them shatter. He recoiled from the conversation, citing his apology, before returning to his original position on the bed. 

I uneasily felt the tension. I got up and walked over to my own bed. I sat on the edge, untying my shoes, before setting them aside with my socks. I removed the sweater I was wearing overtop a button up shirt and, uncharacteristically, threw it into the ground. It made a soft whump. I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, but left it on. I didn’t bother changing anything about my pants. Afterwards, I rolled into my side, facing snugly into the wall, and draped my blanket over me. Quickly, I became comfortable enough to fall asleep at some point. 

I heard Charlie moving around on his bed. His phone clicked, indicating he checked his home screen, then he spoke up, “Adam, it’s… only 7:45.”

“Okay,” I bluntly responded. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie uttered. 

He seemed so _upset_. I had upset him. I made someone upset? That struck me as odd. I knew I’d offended people before, but making a friend genuinely upset due to my actions was new. I hated the idea of hurting him. If he asked me to get out of bed and drop the attitude, I probably would without question. Instead, he seemed to go about the rest of his day, but I could tell he was watching me occasionally. I internally cursed myself for this decision. I had no idea why a friend showing concern for me made me suddenly want to rebel in some way against them. It was far too early to sleep. Yet, now I had to. I started to ruminate on the conversation. 

What if he hated me now? What if he didn’t want to room with me next year now? Had he finally learned I wasn’t worth being friends with? I was barely a person outside school and my mother’s control. 

I felt the inner corners of my eyes slightly burning followed by a light buzzing. I kept my breath steady and deep. I knew I just told him those kinds of thoughts weren’t common, but right now, they were. I considered, impulsively, if being gone would help him. I _know_ this is false. I know he’d greatly mourn me. I couldn’t die and leave him. I’d be devastated if I lost him, too. Despite this, I hated myself. 

As the minutes started to crawl by closer to a regular time to sleep, I desperately hoped my friend couldn’t hear me cry. 

* * *

Just a sketch of Adam (left) and Charlie (right).


	2. Chapter 2

The light struck my eyes harshly. I felt sluggish and my body ached. Charlie always got up early in the morning every other day around 8:00am to go either jog around the campus or spend about an hour in the gym. Usually, I was awake when he got up. In fact, sometimes, I was already dressed and sitting at my desk by this time. Today, I realized, considering he was going to exercise, I had slept for nearly twelve hours. I never typically slept for longer than eight hours by going to sleep around eleven and waking up naturally around seven. I appeared to have rolled onto my back in the night. 

I need to get up. I have a class at nine. Yet, I didn’t want to get up. How could I have spiraled so fast? _No_ , I told myself, _I’m not depressed_. Allowing myself to sleep in so long was why I felt so terrible. Come on, Mr. Pre-Med, you know how oversleeping can cause this feeling. The hypothalamus contains a small cluster responsible for a sleep-wake circadian rhythm, among other things. This little cluster is relatively sensitive to light. Subjection to too much sleep could, then, cause hyperactivity. Too much sleep, literally, would be produced. It was a cruel trick. If my mother hadn’t utterly despised psychology and hadn’t made that information widely known, I might have honestly gone into neuropsychology. I adored those lectures in class. 

I remembered how she sneered over my psychology textbook in high school. 

“I cannot believe between zoobiology and psychology for your elective, you chose the softest, most theoretical nonsense,” she scoffed at me.

I remember looking up from the kitchen table, stacking my notebooks in order, with a surprised recoil, “You are a scientist, yourself. How could you put down a field like psychology? It’s a science just like yours.”

She folded her arms and walked behind me. With a quick flick of her hand, she pinched a strand of hair on the back of my head and yanked on it. I jerked forward to break away, but she was still close. 

“Do not compare a real science like mine to something based on what we think about thinking, almost none of which can be proven. You know what can be proven? The medical side of it. Psychology is like the religion of neurosurgery. You know how I feel about religion,” she loomed over my shoulder. “I am a respected chemist. I work with reality. I work with the physical foundation of the world. Do not ever compare them.”

I murmured back to her, “I like it.”

She gripped my shoulder, leaning over, “If so, go into the medical field, the _real_ medical field. Neurosurgery, now that might be a goal to consider.”

I settled. She was not going to let me get away with anything outside a surgical field, like my father. Sometimes, I thought, she loved my father for his absence. He was also a _respected_ surgeon, she would emphasize. Respected, respected, _respected_! Sure, a heart surgeon (cardiac and thoracic) is hard. My father never really bothered me much. Of the two, I favored my father’s presence. He was generally sleepy if anything, but otherwise rather docile and calm. I would assume this was due to his job where he required being calm and collected under stress. He would provide the best support to us between the two of them. When I was young, being upset was nothing terrible. In fact, you ought to be expressive and work on your emotions. 

“You don’t want to have a heart attack young,” he once told me at dinner. My brother was born when I was eight, so then being a freshman in high school, he was about six. 

“Why’d it attack?” Linus innocently asked. 

“Attack is a colloquial term,” I, in turn, informed him. He blinked. I motioned my hand, “Like a nickname.”

He mouthed _oh_ and looked back to our father. Our father nodded, then elaborated, “I am concerned for you to push so hard that happens. Someone in my class had a heart attack during my PhD. Lucky for him, of course, we were all knowledgeable what to do and how to get help, but you won’t always be in a place so perfect.” 

“Don’t encourage him thinking being a diligent student is bad. What if he stops trying?” She looked at me, “No one in my family has had a heart attack for generations. You are not at risk.”

“Not genetically. Stress is just as powerful,” he corrected her. 

Linus and I looked at each other while my mother glared at her husband. I remember they fought about that. 

I still wondered, now in university, when I would probably have some sort of heart attack. I didn’t plan on it, but if stress really did count against me, I might as well wonder. 

However, right now, my problem was chemical, not within the heart. I continued to lay there, wondering, now that Charlie had mentioned it, what might happen if I missed class. Students miss class all the time. Why couldn’t I? I felt a sharp, nearly electric jolt rush through my chest at the idea of skipping. No, I wouldn’t. _Couldn’t_. 

I had an hour to get ready, though. Now that Charlie was up and motivated, I felt bizarre getting ready at the same time. I know it wouldn’t be too strange, but the pricey room we shared had a private bathroom off the small hallway leading from the door. We couldn’t both get ready at the same time, that would be too much. I believed, despite being close quarters, privacy was still something to be respected. I couldn’t imagine a young man like Charlie to be perfectly fine with showering with another male getting dressed in viewing distance or vice versa. Now, I thought I was even more prudish. I never took off my shirt around other people for the most part. I did take off my shirt to get my tattoo on the left side of my ribs (Mother will never find that out, I hope), but that was different. I simply wanted it. The aspect of being displayed, however, not as appealing. I know Charlie has seen me relatively undressed but I always did my best to rightify that with haste (putting jeans over boxers was the closest to nothing at the moment). Charlie, I had seen dangerously close to undressed. He, yes, appeared to have little qualms about wearing a towel for coverage, but that didn’t mean he was fine with getting ready in close proximity. 

I was totally projecting. It was me who was afraid. I was nervous and prudent. He’s just a friend, who cares? What if he saw something? Or I saw something? That was disrespectful to do, even by accident. Not to mention, potential jealousy… over anything really. Just his legs alone, obviously displayed when wearing his chosen loose shorts for the gym, looks far more appealing than mine. Especially, I felt nervous thinking of it, my pale skin accented by bruises next to his Californian dream physique. He’d certainly mock me, even if lovingly. I appreciated the local weather for the blessing of allowing long sleeves and jeans year round. 

I had still not moved. 

The ceiling light suddenly cut away and I felt a hand push on my shoulder. I slowly opened my eyes to be met with Charlie hovering over my side of the bed in order to look down on me. 

“I started to wonder if your silent treatment had turned into dying in the night. You never sleep in this late,” Charlie held his head to the side like a curious puppy. 

I groaned and squinted looking up, “You were getting dressed by the time I woke up.”

Charlie proceeded to shrug and go back to staring, “You are going to be late.”

I held my eyebrows low, still wearily tired, and frowned, “Are you done?”

Charlie shook his head, “No, I need to brush my teeth and-”

I immediately threw my blanket back over my head and rolled away from him. He took me by surprise by yanking the blanket away from me, subjecting my entire body to a sudden rush of cool air as my accumulated warmth escaped. Eyes wide, I jarred myself up, swallowing hard from the shock. 

“Get up. Now,” he commanded. “I do not know why you suddenly want to act like this, but drop it. Get ready. You can’t tell me you feel perfectly fine just missing class and wouldn’t lay there in bed hopelessly despairing over knowing you were missing a class.”

I brushed my hand across my arm and then held onto it. In a submissive wave of defeat, I obeyed. 

“I don’t like getting ready at the same time as you.”

Charlie pursed his lips and shrugged, “Guess what, no choice. Go shower.”

My right eye twitched, “I don’t have to. I just need to get dressed and leave.”

Charlie bounced his shoulders and let his eyebrows dip in doubt. I sneered back and got up. He watched me for a minute then returned to the bathroom. With the sound of pouring tap water filling the space, I opened my drawers. A dark blue dress shirt and dark blue jeans would be good enough. Socks, check. Boxers, check. Shoes? I looked at my standard leather Oxford style shoes. I rolled my shoulders and then looked to the closet. I picked up the Oxfords and swapped them out for a pair of black Converse high tops. I stacked my clothes and then turned towards the bathroom. 

The clock on the corner of my desk read 8:25am. I suddenly felt rushed. How had time genuinely gone by so fast? 

I walked into the bathroom and set the stack of clothing on the countertop next to the sink. Charlie still stood there, passively combing down his hair and patting a damp hand onto spots wear any stuck upwards. I huffed at him. 

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you,” he responded and admired himself in the mirror. For being adept at strength, he did not have a structure any larger than my own. He may have been taller, but his shoulders weren’t any wider. Wearing the dark grey tank top like the one he had chosen showed off his symmetrical arms, but also betrayed him. Admittedly, he looked good, but not overly masculine as I thought he secretly hoped. He looked _healthy_ , at least. 

“I am not undressed beside you. Get out,” I now commanded. 

He cast me a glance by the corner of his eye and contemplated. The time crunch was not making me any happier. 

“You see me in a towel all the time,” he smiled playfully.

“Charlie, I swear to god, get the fuck out at least long enough for me to get in the shower,” I groaned.

He stuck his tongue out at me, “You prude.”

“You whore,” I quipped back.

He merely smiled contently and walked out. I thought to myself as I quickly undressed before ducking into the shower stall, _why in the hell did I put up with him?_

I let the hot water engulf me. It scorched my skin at first, but I slowly adjusted it and felt comfortable. I drenched my hair and got it washed swiftly. My face was never too bad, so a quick wash was all that was necessary. Otherwise, I only needed a once over with my body wash. In the warm shower, everything smelled cheerfully citrus. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed for a moment. Under the heat, for a moment, I stood there with my head tilted back. My hands were initially limp at my sides but they began to wander. The time crunch realization suddenly yanked me back into reality. 

The shower knob squeaked as I turned it off. I reached over the shower rod and yanked down my towel to use. Charlie had a habit of leaving his on the ground, which I would later have to then pick up and place on the rod as well.

Starting with my hair, I fluffed it dry. The rest of my body was easy to do in a fast swipe. Peaking my head out, I saw no sign of Charlie, so went ahead and stepped out. I grabbed my socks first. Then, I moved onto my boxers. As I reached over to grab my jeans, I saw Charlie appear in the mirror as he walked into the doorway. 

“Hey!” I shouted at him. 

He put his hands up, “Sorry, sorry!” 

I felt like I had blushed. 

Charlie called back to me, “I was just saying you need to get on your way. Also, have you gotten skinnier? You need to eat more.”

I grit my teeth and got dressed as fast as I could. I brushed through my hair as fast as I could before zipping past him to grab my backpack and go. 

I looked at him on my way out, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be going yourself?” 

He shrugged with a smile, “Yeah, but I wanted to make sure you did, too. Sleeping in and all that.”

I rolled my eyes at him and headed out, although, honestly, I was thankful. I really would have been late without him. I would not have let myself get by with being late so easily. Probably, yeah, I would’ve moped or taken it out on something (myself). This class in particular, I wouldn’t be happy of all classes to be missing a core class for my major. Had the class been not anatomy related, I could have potentially let it slide to mess up an elective. 

If I missed class, though, I wonder if my professor would email me. I have set a precedent of never missing and being a highly respected student. Me missing really would have been bizarre. 

I felt my phone buzz, notifying me of a message. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen, expecting something from Charlie but instead I saw my father had texted me. I opened the message. 

_Dean Rollins: Do you need money for a ticket to come home?_

I looked at it for a while before responding back.

_Me: Yes. I won’t be home immediately now. Postponed by a week._

_Dean Rollins: Postponed a week? Why?_

Wow, fast response. I worried about watching where I was walking first. With December progressing along, the snow and ice was becoming a problem in the shadier areas along the walkways. Good news, at least fall semester was wrapping up soon. Once I walked up the stairs to get inside the building, I stood beside the doorway and took out my phone again. 

_Me: Charlie is acting unnecessarily concerned about me and is making me visit his house at the beginning of break. I agreed to a week. Then I will fly from there to the house._

_Dean Rollins: Do they still live outside Albany back in NY? Also, why is he worried?_

_Me: Yes, still in the store. Also, it’s nothing._

_Dean Rollins: Ticket shouldn’t be much from there to here. I doubt he’d want to drive you that far away._

_Me: No, I wouldn’t have him drive from Albany to Columbus, Ohio. Not my fault you guys moved after I graduated high school._

_Dean Rollins: Better job offer for me._

_Me: You should’ve went by yourself._

I paused then sent another message. 

_Me: No, wait, you should’ve at least taken Linus._

My father texted me back quickly. I wondered what he was up to at the time. 

_Dean Rollins: Oh, sure, and just leave your mother behind in New York?_

I laughed to myself, feeling somewhat cruel for the thought. 

_Me: Yes, please. It would have been preferable._

_Dean Rollins: Don’t let her know you said that._

_Me: Then don’t repeat it._

_Dean Rollins: I know she can be harsh but it isn’t like she doesn’t care._

I scoffed, eyeing up over my phone at the clock. Now settled at my seat, waiting for the beginning of class, I expected the professor to start talking at any moment. 

_Me: She sure comes off so loving, huh. Are you sure she doesn’t just really like success, fame, and prestige?_

_Dean Rollins: I’m not going to lie and say she doesn’t, but you can’t believe she doesn’t love her sons for being just that… her children. Who would have kids and not love them?_

_Me: If you say so._

_Dean Rollins: You’ve never came off this resentful before. Is something really going on?_

My expression fell flat with annoyance. I ran myself into a problem there. I set my phone aside on the desk and sighed. Within only a few seconds it buzzed again. I glanced over at it and begrudgingly opened it. As much as I apparently was ‘in a moody period,’ I couldn’t really push that off on my innocent father. 

Students around me began shuffling and opening their notebooks, so I knew I had to hurry. 

_Dean Rollins: You said Charlie was concerned about you, so should I be too? You will be home in almost a month, right?_

_Me: Yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Class starting. I promise I’ll come home like usual. Seriously, no problem._

I closed off my phone, slipped it into my pocket, and moved on to thinking about class. This was to be the last full week of classes before a shortened week followed by finals. 


	3. Chapter 3

One more day.  _ One more day _ , I told myself as I walked down the corridor to my dorm room. A significant portion of the halls were empty already as students headed home after their last final had ended. My last for this round of classes was to be tomorrow morning at 9:00am. Charlie already finished his last today, but he was waiting for me to finish since he wanted me to go home with him. Charlie had a car here; I didn’t. Now that my family lived in a different place, I was heavily considering getting a car. Besides, I might get a job where there wasn’t reliable public transport. I never worked enough hours over summer or winter breaks to support the cost of a vehicle. My father offered to buy me one before, on the condition Linus could use it as well when he turned sixteen in two years, but I couldn’t justify getting something for essentially free, even if I tried hard in school. Honestly, it was better for Linus to get a car all to himself. No one his age would want to share something like a car when a possession like that brings a sense of identity. I just drove my father’s average early 2000’s Monte Carlo, always fearing the wide door would swing out too far and get struck by another vehicle. 

I would soon be back to that once I head home. Like I said,  _ one more day. _

Without the weight of my backpack on my shoulders, I felt strange. All I really needed these past few days were a pen, pencil, or calculator. Sure, there were a few exams otherwise I could use materials for, but those were mostly online and I took them in my room. Charlie typically would just leave if I had an online exam. 

With my door in sight, I trudged forward. The door suddenly opened and I was taken by surprise by the sight of long brown hair. If anything, I would’ve expected blond. I looked at the person. She was about my age, average height, with her long brown hair a bit unruly with static. She wore a loose hoodie and sweatpants finished off with standard sneakers with the laces tucked in instead of being tied. The girl stepped out, smiling over her shoulder and waving back into the room. I slowed my pace and stopped in the hallway, blinking at her with a raised eyebrow. She looked at me for a moment before she had a wave of realization on her face as she traced her sight between me and the doorway. Without a further word, she turned and walked briskly in the other direction. The door to my dorm room slowly closed behind her. I waited for a moment after hearing the door click before walking up to it. 

Slipping my key into the door handle, I turned it to find it was unlocked. I frowned. I always told Charlie to lock the door even if he was in the room. No, I wasn’t paranoid, but he did have a habit of just spontaneously leaving which left the room potentially accessible. He could be like an overly social puppy following after anyone familiar. Shaking my head, I opened the door slowly and cleared my throat as I stepped it. 

Charlie was laying on his bed, one leg propped up at an angle and the other straight out. Both his arms were crossed behind his head as a pillow, not that he needed more head support as he laid there surrounded by a small pile of soft pillows. His bright pastel shirt was hanging draped over his chair at the desk beside him, leaving him shirtless as he laid there. His shoes were off. At least he was wearing his pale blue jeans at the time. When he saw me walk in, he gave me a lopsided smile with teeth and high brows. I shook my head back at him. 

“What was that…” I asked him with a slow blink. 

My roommate made a short coughing noise then a laugh, “A friend, just was hanging out after finals.”

“Studying?” I mocked him. 

“Oh,  _ of course _ !” He smiled brightly. 

I continued past him and sat on the edge of my bed. I took off my jacket and hung it over the post at the end of the bed frame. I shrugged, “Yes,  _ of course _ , what subject?” 

He couldn’t stop smiling and started mutedly laughing at his own joke, “Anatomy.”

I purposefully held my expression flat and only cocked a single eyebrow. Honestly, great response, I personally thought. I refused to give him the satisfaction. “Ah,” I deadpanned, “I don’t think she’s in my class.”

He grabbed his shirt from the chair, balled it up, and threw it hard at me. I caught it and fumbled. I broke my reserve and grinned back. I laughed as well and threw it back, although with significantly less power and aim. 

“Seriously, Charlie,” I harrumphed, “who are these girls? That is not the first I have seen leave this room.”

Charlie waved his hand at me, “I have not had that many girls over. Only like five.”

“Does that count the ones you visit?” 

He groaned playfully, “Oh, come on! Actually, I’ll have you know I meet up with the same girls most of the time. It’s mostly my same friend group as always.”

I looked at the floor, “I don’t think that’s what you do with friends, usually, plus, I don’t understand how you can just do that and go on back and forth. Just… never dating? Just meet up with them? Act like it’s all normal?”

“Uhh,” he paused and looked up in thought, “it is harder to explain. It’s like, whatever, not important to explain. It’s more common than you think.”

I shook my head at him, condescendingly. “Are you even safe? Please don’t end up with one or two little versions of you, yet.”

Charlie flicked his hand at me and pointed, “I am not stupid. If not me, then them. Most girls swear they take something.”

I blinked, “Okay, yeah, that’s good but you should still take your own precautions. Things can go wrong with birth control, so also using a-”

He cut me off, “Yeah,  _ yeah _ , this isn’t seventh grade health class,  _ mmmkay _ ? Also, I am pretty sure you aren’t experienced in this particular field at the moment, so just so you know, a lot of girls are absolutely into the whole not using condoms thing.”

I glanced him over, “You sure about that? I thought that was a toxic masculinity ploy.”

He sat up with a wide-eyed expression, “No, seriously, they get into it. It’s called a breeding kink. Terrible name! I don’t like… don’t get me wrong, I don’t get into all that kind of stuff because that is way too complicated, but if she tells me to do something and is serious about it, I try to play along the best I can. I am considerate, after all, and I remember preferences.”

I had no idea how to respond to that. I opened my mouth, tilted my head to the side, then just closed my eyes trying to think. I knew that particular realm of sexuality was a thing, but I for some reason hadn’t considered it being practiced with him of all people. That would require a partner to look at him, know him, and think  _ yeah, you are worth the risk to indulge in this _ . That was a phenomena on the rise, I knew. You almost couldn’t not see it on the internet at some point. As busy as I could be, I had free-time on the internet. 

Charlie continued, “Like that girl wanted me to talk through stuff and I guess make it erotic? So, I said stuff like-”

I cut him off this time. “Charlie, please, I don’t need to hear about specifics. I think it’s weird enough having the confirmation of stuff that happens in the room I live in.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. I mouthed  _ seriously  _ at him and rolled my eyes. I almost felt too tired to worry about it. 

“Oh, sure,” Charlie teased, “as if not telling me what you do makes it better. At least I tell you I have had girls in here… and that one guy, uhh anyway, but what about you, Mister Secrecy?”

I just kept one eyebrow raised and didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” he pried. 

I tilted my head to the left and kept my expression. When my neck suddenly popped and surprised me, I moved on and answered, “I have never had anyone  _ that way _ in here.”

Charlie didn’t respond to me immediately. He instead seemed to be thinking through it. I wasn’t sure what there was to be thinking about. There wasn’t anyone I had visit our room and I met other students in the library if anything. Unless he thought I was violating the pseudoholy sanctity of a library, I really don’t know what he thought. 

“You good there?” I asked to break the silence. 

He looked at me somewhat concerned, “Have you not… while… the whole time in college? It’s been four years since high school. That’s a long time. I’d go crazy.”

“You are correct about the first part and it indeed has been four years since high school but that also doesn’t play into this.”

My response was met with silence at first then followed by a drawn out wince, “ _ No _ ,  _ no _ , you can’t be serious.”

I clicked my tongue, “You were right when you said I wasn’t experienced in this field.”

His jaw was literally hanging open almost as if that information genuinely shocked him, “I said  _ at the moment! _ ”

Flustered, I bounced my hands in the air alternating back and forth, “Man, I don’t know what to tell you! I’ve been busy.”

With a choking noise, he exclaimed, “ _ Busy _ !”

I scratched the back of my head and stuttered a bit, “It’s not a big deal. Stop acting so shocked. Changing topics!”

“ _ How _ !” Charlie continued in his surprise, “Not a big deal, but you are like… 22!”

“And so are you. Cool, we know how old we are. Moving on.”

Charlie tapped his chin, “Do you want me to set you up with someone? You have a finicky type you can’t find? A weird fetish? Or, is there something wrong with you…” 

I glared at him. 

“No, I mean, not to be offensive, I meant like medically, I-” He was tripping over himself. 

I shook my head, “No, and also I’ve known you for almost a decade, I probably would’ve lamented something like that to you by now. Furthermore, no, I do not need being set up with anyone. I. Am. Fine.”

“ _ Furthermore _ ,” he mocked me, “your sex life is sad and boring. As one girl I know calls it, vanilla.”

I rolled my eyes before briefly smirking to myself at the comment of being called vanilla. I also assumed this was the girl with the breeding kink. Like I had thought before, being alone doesn’t mean boring. I often got bored, if you call that state of mind boredom, and would scroll through my feed on  _ FetLife _ , a website far from a vanilla audience. I never interacted with anything and more often I would cringe at the creepiness of what appeared to be older men abusing the premise of the website’s premise. For the most part, I tended to just collect tags to my profile list and looked at discussion posts. I shook my head again, as if to tumble the thought away. I shrugged at him. “Oh well, that subject is not your responsibility to be concerned about.  _ Moving. On _ .”

Charlie gasped, “Is that why you have only gotten moodier recently?”

I threw my head back and grumbled before snapping, “I said moving on! This is not something to randomly discuss.”

“It’s cute when you get flustered by stuff like this,” Charlie smiled.

I glared back at him as I brought my head back to level, “I am not cute. Shut up.”

“Prude,” he added once more. 

I shook my head, like always, but this time with a soft smile. 

No light had yet fully breached the horizon when I woke up. The sky above still held on tightly to the remnants of night as the hours of morning crept along. Without a doubt, my morning final emerged as my first concern. With a glance at the clock on my desk, I saw the time to be 6:50am. I knew my alarm should go off soon. I also knew realistically I needed to get up and review, but the bed was warm and comfortable all around me. I lifted my head up on my pillow and angled my chin up to peer out the window. There was a light fog heavily drifting by outside, eerily concealing the snow’s passing in the wind. Outside looked miserable. Looking at it, I felt miserable myself knowing I needed to get out of bed, walk through all of that, all for an exam. 

I kept staring outside, imagining the air across my face or the way the chill would sting my ears. The more I thought of it, the less I truly wanted to rise at all. 

I had to, though, right? 

_ Actually _ , I thought to myself,  _ no _ . This professor had promised us all one dropped exam, including the final exam. In fact, he told us last week explicitly that “if we liked our grade in the class, you can skip the final. I recommend taking the final if you think you can achieve a higher grade than one of the other exams.” 

So, I planned to take it off course. My lowest grade was a high B on the third exam, due to a stressful insomniac week that resulted in me giving up at the end and lazily circling a random few choices for the last five questions, of which, I got wrong. Those were the only ones I got wrong, though, but I also hadn’t remembered the section at all no matter how hard I tried. Because of this, I thought the final would be an opportunity to erase the B for even a low A if possible. If I got a low score on the final, then no harm to me either, because it would drop and the grade I now had (percentage doesn’t matter, but I shouldn’t act like I can complain) didn’t bother me. 

Once more, I looked up at the sky, waiting for any glimpse of light, before I resigned. I really shouldn’t push myself for something like that. Slowly, I pressed my face back into my pillow, taking methodical breaths to combat the feeling of rising anxiety over the principle idea of skipping, and relaxed. I still felt bad though, if not for the exam, but for the idea that Charlie and I could have left by now had I not insisted I would be taking an exam this morning. In addition, the weather outside would be horrible to drive through ( _ you did not need to look outside to confirm it is still bad outside… and yet, you did _ ). We could’ve left before the newest snow covering blew in. Regardless, had I been doing the standard, my flight probably would not have been leaving if the fog was bad across town and Charlie would have been driving solo for that long trip. Having someone else might not be the worst, especially if something bad happened. Had he left alone, hoping he would not text me while driving, I would worry if he made it home safely. Crashing and dying halfway through a trip and not texting while safely driving the second half produces the same feedback on my end: nothing. Naturally, who wouldn’t worry? Friends worry. That’s how that works. 

I just imagined now waiting for him to wake up and telling him passively I didn’t go to the final. He’d probably take the opposite approach than I would being told that; he’d probably praise me for slacking and “caring” about myself. No, not slacking. He wouldn’t call it that. Even I shouldn’t call it that, at least, not for this. Optional means optional. I did need to work on that. 

Across the room, Charlie aggressively hugged onto one of his extra pillows as he nested into his restful sleep. I only had two pillows, one extra-firm and the other a normal soft one for moving around. I wondered why he felt the need to cradle things to sleep, but it was probably a trait of compassion or friendliness. Either way, he looked extremely comfortable in his sleep and I felt jealous. 

I reached out to grab my phone and squinted when I brought up my clock app, trying not to further pull myself out of sleep. I switched off all of the subsequent alarms. I decided, then, I would wake naturally and not bother with the exam. Stuffing my phone under my pillow, I rolled my head inwards, tugging the softer pillow in with me, adjusted my blankets to wrap back around my arm, then curled into myself. Already comfortable, the wave of relaxation hit me strong and I, without much time to think about anything more, fell back asleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Adam!”

Slowly, I became aware of what was happening. I opened my eyes to see Charlie hovering over me with a hand ready to grab my shoulder had I not responded. I groaned and scrunched my eyes closed. Charlie then went ahead and grasped my shoulder with unexpected force. 

“Adam!” Charlie insisted as he gripped my shoulder. 

I hissed and rolled my head towards him, reaching up with one hand and shoving his hand away, “What!”

“It’s past ten!” 

“Uh-huh…?” I murmured apathetically. 

“Your exam! The final!” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

I squinted then nodded passively, “Oh, that. Yeah, I skipped it.”

Charlie made a shocked choking noise, “You,  _ really _ , you skipped it? What? Are you sick?”

“Sick?” I asked. 

He put his hand on my forehead as if checking for a fever. I immediately pulled away from his touch and swatted his hand away. 

“I am not sick.”

“But you-”

“I made the decision to skip it, alright?” I huffed, feeling increasingly awkward to have him lurking above me. 

He blinked in surprise. I waited for a response but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he backed off slightly then looked out the window. He then looked back at me, still with visible surprise, “Really?”

“No,” I quipped, “I’m astral projecting into my bed right now.  _ Yes, obviously _ , that is why I’m here!”

Charlie tilted his head like the giant puppy he was then smiled, “I guess we can get going, then, huh!” 

“Charlie, what time is it?” I asked. 

He looked at his watch. I couldn’t see my clock through him. He tapped the screen, “Uhh, 10:20 am?” 

I blew a puff of air out before stretching. I yawned and felt the tension in my neck pop a few times. My neck was always stiff in the morning and late-night from how often I was looking down at my desk. In the end, I wouldn’t be surprised if I got arthritis at an older age, especially in my neck. 

“You sound crunchy,” Charlie laughed. I stuck out my tongue at him. 

“Crunchy?”

“Yeah, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were breaking your neck when you stretch. You didn’t, did you?” He reached down and poked my neck before going for tickling me instead. 

I flinched away sharply and tried waving him away with a tense smile. I lurched away with a broadening smile when he continued to go for skimming his fingertips over my neck, sending chills down my body. I felt the fine peach fuzz hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. With a single strike, I managed to hit his hand. 

“I think my neck isn’t broken,” I continued to playfully swat him and sit up in bed. 

“Oh, hmm,” he mused before suddenly grinning, “I can fix that if you want.” 

Charlie proceeded to fake trying to kill me by lunging at me and loosely placing his hands around my throat. Out of reflex, I knew my heart rate increased, and surely he could feel that against the palms of his hands, but I had no fear ultimately. I laid my hands over his wrists and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh really? Do it, I dare you!” I grinned with teeth back at him. 

“You dare me?” Charlie peered down and hesitated to move his hands. 

“Yeah, then I could haunt you.” 

“Hmm,” he seemed to consider it in the fleeting moment before removing his hands and instead scooped beneath me, one arm under my torso and the other disturbingly by surprise under my legs, to lift me up. I let out a shocked squeal as I suddenly went airborne. “I think instead of being a ghost we should be on our way instead.” 

I kicked my legs and he dropped me back down on the bed. I felt briefly winded from it, but I tossed my head back to throw my hair out of my face. 

“Let’s go. Get ready.”

I groaned at him, “How come you had to pick me up? I was comfortable.” 

“Too tempting,” Charlie smirked before turning away. As he walked away and turned his attention towards his luggage cases sitting next to his bed, he suddenly thought of something to add, “Also, you seriously weigh too little.”

“I do not!” 

“You are way too thin. I could feel your skeleton.”

I rolled my eyes as I swung my legs over the edge of my half-lofted bed, “It might be because I have one. I felt the bones in your arms under me. I’m not thin, I just don’t have great muscle mass.”

He looked over his shoulder, “Thin.”

“Fine, I’m thin.”

He bounced his head slightly and murmured under his breath, “Thin but more like a  _ twink _ .” 

I glared at his back, “What did you say?” 

“Huh?” He turned a full grin at me with his hands clasped together, “I didn’t say anything.”

With a routine in the process, grabbing my clothes for the day and other things, I clicked my tongue, “I hate you, Charlie.”

He flicked his hand over his shoulder, “I promise you, I know that is a lie.” 

Yeah, he was right. 

Charlie owned a 2013 four-door 4x4 Jeep Wrangler. In the sun, the light tone of the sky blue was illuminated, showing off the gentle flecks of shimmer in the paint. His interior was slick, black leather with dark blue accents on the dash. I had to admit, his car was rather admirable. In the center of the dash, there was a nice flat touch screen radio featuring SiriusXM Radio. 2013 wasn’t necessarily a new make or model, but his car was still decently desirable for a car on the market. I wish I could afford that. His father bought it for him at graduation, paid in full. My father and mother both made decent money, but not enough to justify throwing an entire paid-off car at me. 

“How much was this again?” I asked as I tapped my finger on the door frame. 

Charlie only glanced over at me briefly, “I think, uhh, around thirty thousand? Maybe twenty-five? I don’t quite remember.” 

I let out an exasperated breath, “That is quite a lot, you know?” 

He nodded in pride, “Yes it is. That’s why I take care of it.”

“Your family must really make a lot of profit off the pawnshop,” I watched out the window at passing cars and trees along the side of the road.

He shrugged, “Livable, that’s for sure.”

I harrumphed.  _ Livable _ . 

During the ride, I lazed back in my seat. The trees zipped past. At a point, I squinted then glanced over at Charlie’s speedometer. As expected, I saw he was nowhere close to the speed limit. 

“Please don’t kill us speeding,” I said. 

He  _ mehhed  _ at me and instead turned on the radio. The radio screen lit up, flashing blue and the word Jeep large across it before loading up the downloaded list of songs. He had a variety of music, but for the most part they were all background listening. Without even looking, he pushed the screen and let a random song begin to play. I reached over and turned the music down slightly to a more tolerable level. Charlie gave me a short glare out of the corner of his eye. I hated loud music. 

“Boring,” my friend commented. 

“I hate the idea of dying listening to loud music on the highway and the paramedics arrive and think poorly of us,” I responded immediately. It was true. I actually had a genuine fear of that. 

He only shook his head while glancing into the rearview mirror, “We aren’t going to die on the highway.” 

“You can’t promise that,” I looked away from the window towards him. Normally, I wouldn’t have questioned it but Charlie looked down for a split second towards the hood then back up at the road. 

He swallowed uneasily, “Actually, I don’t want to talk about dying on the highway. Not that I think I’ll kill us, but…” 

“Oh,” I sank in my seat, feeling growingly guilty. I forgot about his brother, Chase, having been killed that way and he hadn’t even been in a car. I reached over with my dominant hand and anxiously gripped at my left sleeve, “Sorry.”

He reassured me quickly it had been okay, but I still felt bad. I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth trying to think of something to say. The cab of the Jeep filled up with the absence of speaking, leaving the only noise to the radio and the whirring of the large SUV tires on the pavement. The Jeep rode smooth, but it had a distinct sensation of motion to it; this had been a mixture of high tire pressure in large tires and a vehicle with a high center of gravity. I felt the Jeep sway gently in rhythm. 

That was something to discuss. 

“Do you ever get annoyed by how Jeeps rock and have so much road noise?” I asked Charlie. 

“Hmm,” he drummed his right fingers on the steering wheel before relaxing back in the seat, “I really like it actually.” 

“It’s different. My father’s little car doesn’t have much of it.” 

“Nah, plus your father’s car is one of those weird pull-the-front-seat-forward cars to get into the back seat. That seriously sucks, man. No wonder you never had the courage to sneak a date in it. I can’t imagine that being fast to cover up evidence in,” Charlie kept his eyes on the road, thankfully while talking. 

“I wouldn’t anyway, Charlie,” I shook my head and took out my phone. 

“It’s not that bad,” Charlie quipped, “but you gotta be careful in a Jeep. You think it rocks on a rough road now, try the back seat!” 

I paused. I should’ve expected that type of information. I looked over my shoulder into the back seat, skimming my eyes over the hard leather edges of the relatively flat second row. “Remind me not to sit in the back.”

“Aw,” he teased, “such a shame. It’s a nice back seat. It’s useful for when I went to parties and the girl was too nervous of being in the house.”

I sighed at him, condescending. I resorted to scrolling through my news feed on my phone, hoping for something to look forward to. 

Charlie continued talking, “You are way quieter than last time we went on a road trip.” 

I looked up from my phone for a moment, trying to remember what he was talking about.  _ Oh _ . 

“Charlie, that doesn’t count. It was only like a fifty-minute drive and that was you taking me to get my wisdom teeth taken out four years ago. That’s not a road trip and I’ve ridden with you places since then.” 

He didn’t respond as he looked in the rear-view mirror, over his shoulder, and changed lanes to pass a car. After, he directed back to me, “It was the last adventure!”

“So much for adventure,” I shrugged and looked out the window, “I got pain and three teeth in a baggy.”

Charlie made a low, gruff noise as he cleared his throat. I felt a strange twitch of emotion at the noise. It hadn’t felt quite normal like he was almost nervous. 

“You good?” I asked. 

I received a fast-spoken response. “Do you remember the ride back?”

“From the surgery?” I asked. He nodded. “No.” 

Silence. I felt a cold shiver. This wasn’t the first time the ride back from that had been brought up. He refused to tell me what happened. 

“Yeah,” he merely hummed after that, “so you still don’t remember anything from the ride home? Nothing you said? Did?” 

I groaned and banged my head on the stiff, forward-leaning headrest, “Goddamnit, Charlie, what the fuck did I say or do after I got my teeth out! It’s been four years!” 

He shook his head, “It’s not that important.” 

“It feels important.” 

“It’s not,” Charlie said bluntly, “It’s more of an embarrassment to you, I think if anything.” 

I grumbled at him. Maybe I shouldn’t know what I did to embarrass myself. I have seen my fair share of videos of people during the aftermath of dental surgery. People could say some fairly wild things.

“Question,” I heard him ask, “when people are drugged up like that, do they lie? Like, say they confessed to a murder or something, should you believe them?” 

I blinked in surprise, “Did I confess to a murder?”

Charlie snorted, “No, nothing like that, that was just an example.” 

_ Alright _ , “Well, obviously I wouldn’t anyway. People don’t say anything they weren’t already thinking or feeling. For the most part, people don’t really say anything important, more fleeting thoughts. It would be related to things they are being reminded of in the moment or something they would normally think of to begin with.” 

Charlie’s face fell somewhat neutral. I looked at him for a while. 

“What about actions?” he asked. 

“Same? Things they already wanted to do.” 

He merely nodded. In the lack of a response, I dragged my foot across the floor mat, feeling anxious. More and more, I was sure I absolutely offended him back then. I must’ve called him stupid or something like that. I didn’t really think I would, but I knew around that time I had been so frustrated over him also getting into Yale with me, I felt almost betrayed for how hard I worked for it. I might have said that to him. I’m glad, however, that whatever it was, he hadn’t been offended enough to drop me as a friend. 

I looked down at my phone, seeing a text blip on my screen followed by a vibration. Linus had texted me. I raised an eyebrow before suddenly remembering something else. 

“You know,” I started, “Linus has to get his wisdom teeth removed this year. Just like with me, Mother’s theory is ‘figure it out yourself’ but the poor kid is literally only a kid. I’ll have to take him.” 

Charlie raised his eyebrows, “Already? Isn’t he only like fifteen?” 

“Yeah, but his came in crooked and they are hitting his second molars. I waited too long on mine anyway.” 

“I remember,” Charlie admitted, “you were so pathetic there at the end crying over eating.” 

“It hurt!” I interjected. 

He laughed at me. 

I crossed my arms, “Not everyone is so lucky to have their wisdom teeth just come in  _ perfectly fine _ !” 

“I am further convinced I am a god,” he smiled happily. 

I rolled my eyes, “Well, I wonder if Linus will say anything weird like I said to you.” 

Charlie pursed his lips and stared at the road, flicked his eyes at the rear-view, at me, then at the road, “I hope not, actually. If so, there might be some problems to address.” 

I froze, “What… what do you mean?”

“Oh, you’d know if it happens,” Charlie said ominously. I didn’t like this conversation anymore. I opened my phone to respond. 

_ Linus Rollins: When you come home, please help me get Mother off my case. _

_ Me: Why? What did you do? _

_ Linus Rollins: Ahhh _

“The fuck did he do?” I said aloud. Charlie made a small squeak. 

“Huh?” 

“My brother did something,” I replied, staring at the little three dots on the chat open and close. 

Linus responded with a photo of him with his ear pierced. My brother had light skin like mine, although with a healthier blush of life to his. Contrasted against it was not one but two dark black studs on his ear. He had both one on the lobe and another on the helix. He tucked his slightly lighter hair back over his ear to show it off. I could tell based on the lack of redness or swelling, it hadn’t been an extremely new addition. I bet he had been hiding it under his hair. Since we typically got our hair trimmed up over winter break, that must have been when she caught on. I flinched, already imagining the wrath of our mother at that. I was surprised already she hadn’t yanked the studs out of his skin. 

“Oh,” I slowly said, “yeah, uh oh. He pierced his ears.” 

Choked, Charlie started laughing, “Oh, he’s  _ dead _ !” 

“Oh, I’m surprised he’s still standing, that’s for sure.” 

I responded. 

_ Me: Why did you do that while living there? I’m not going to say it was a bad idea but it was a bad idea to do it while Mother still thinks she owns you. _

_ Linus Rollins: Impulse rebellion.  _

_ Me: I get that, but maybe less visibly? _

_ Linus Rollins: Better than _

_ Linus Rollins: Like _

_ Linus Rollins: IDK _

_ Linus Rollins: Doing heroin or something.  _

I let out a heavy breath.  _ Oh my god, this child _ , I thought to myself.

_ Me: You aren’t wrong. Actually. Have you tried that excuse?  _

_ Linus Rollins: She said how bout neither.  _

_ Me: Of course.  _

_ Linus Rollins: Hold on, Mother is coming. Wants phone. Bye.  _

_ Me: Delete chats.  _

_ Linus Rollins: Oh I def know that bye. _

I stared at my phone screen for a moment before closing out of messages and switching over to the front page of Google to peruse the news articles. Charlie was  _ tsk-tsking _ away from the driver’s side at me. 

My best friend openly mused, “You should get your ears pierced.” 

“Why?” I scrolled. 

“I have mine pierced, not that I have anything in them at the moment, but also because Linus now does. I imagine your mom wants you to show up during break being the prized prodigal child so she can point at you and say ‘look what you need to be’ to him. What about, if to her surprise, you show up and you also have pierced ears so she can’t get away with it?”

I honestly considered it, “Maybe, but it wouldn’t be useful in my career in the long run.”

He whined, “Stop it with the long-term nonsense. Fine, if you insist, though. You could always lift up your shirt and show off your tattoo and just smile at her.” 

A horrifying shiver crawled down my back at the idea of Mother verbally assaulting me over that discovery. I didn’t regret my tattoo, though. I really loved it, in fact, but Mother would  _ not _ . On my left side, across my ribs, I had a tattoo of a grey ankh, the Ancient Egyptian symbol of eternal life, with the Asclepius serpent winding up the base, mimicking the classic Rod of Asclepius. The symbol is the original symbol of medicine and healing, as Asclepius was the healing hero son of Apollo. Meanwhile, the ankh came from a culture that innovated major components of medicine that we now know as true, although, had been discounted by the western world for centuries due to ethnocentrism and racism. I thought it was rather nice. On the other hand, Father would probably nod and say something along the lines of “I can’t say that’s my style, but if you like it, that’s what matters.” 

Honestly, I liked my father more. 

“I think she’d kill both sons and start over,” I murmured. 

“I wouldn’t want that,” Charlie sadly replied, “I guess you can’t then.” 

I sighed in agreement. 

“This got depressing,” Charlie looked over his shoulder towards the left lane before merging over. I stared out the window at a passing red sedan barreling well into forty over the speed limit. I blinked and addressed my phone. 

“Good news, according to this article,  _ The Witcher  _ season two should air this year, but who knows when,” I shrugged. 

“I hope it does, the world definitely needs more Henry Cavill,” Charlie beamed. 

“I mean, also the plot of the show is important. Fate, destiny, monsters…” I contrasted him. 

“I just watch it for Henry Cavill,” he opposed me. 

I rolled my eyes, “I read the books.” 

“Books or no books,” he pointed his index finger while still gripping the steering wheel, “they cast great actors for the show. A hot cast all around.” 

“If you like Cavill, what about Joey Batey?” 

“Huh?’ He asked. 

“He plays Jaskier, the bard?” I reminded him. 

“Oh!” He padded his hand on the wheel, “Yeah, him too. Both main actors are hot. Henry Cavill is way better, but sure, I’d absolutely kill to be with either. Actually, Jaskier’s actor reminds me of you.” 

Bringing my brows slowly together and panning my head ever so slowly towards the driver, I gave a short, awkward laugh, “That’s weird to say in that context.” 

“Whoops,” he grinned and shrugged, fanning his fingers out as he drove. “I’m surprised you like that show with how much sexual content there is in it.” 

_ Harrumph _ . “I’m not averse to it. I just think the personal discussion is weird, okay?” 

“Totally not part of the repressive-household-trauma, right?” 

I snapped back, “I am not traumatized.” I got only an  _ mhmm _ in response. 

“I’m glad you aren’t totally averse to it, at least,” my friend humored, “it’s good for you, if you, y’know would just-“ 

I cut him off, “Trust me, I know what is good for the human body. You really want to know what is good for you? I could definitely tell you what is  _ not _ good for it, although you’ll say ‘you aren’t my mom’ and whine and tell me to shut up about my advice. I’m not on the path to med school to not pick up basic info on the human body.” 

I crossed my arms and plopped my phone in my lap. 

“Ooh!” He suddenly perked, “Then tell me about how it’s good for you.” 

“Huh?” I was taken by surprise. 

“You know? Se-“ 

“-Why?” I asked sharply. 

He shrugged that time, “You said you know what is good for the human body, which is weird, just say people or something. I know it’s good, but… how? I don’t know how. I know how stuff is bad for you, though. We all have to sit through alcohol awareness seminars in school and college. We all had to do red ribbon week as a kid. Good stuff? Like, vegetables. The other stuff, they don’t really talk about.” 

_ Hmm, what is there actually to talk about? _ I hadn’t lied. 

“Do you want citations?” I started off. He gave me an incredulous gaze before returning to looking at the road. “Yeah, I should’ve expected your answer there. Alright, uhh…” 

_ Basics?  _

“I’m sure you know it lowers blood pressure. Most forms of exercise do, of course. Also, in terms of exercise, it would help keep the heart strong. It’s not a major source of cardio, so you should obviously do more than just that, but undoubtedly it’s a good thing. A healthy trend into older age could prevent heart attacks by doing so, although it could also be a problem if a condition is already present. Consider it preventative there. Furthermore, along with it being a form of exercise, which we know releases a plethora of chemicals that can boost your mood and immune system, but climax itself acts as a boost too. This is likely evolutionary to encourage us to keep doing it. Actually, there is more to that. Did you know the absorption of viable semen, that is, with living sperm, actually have antidepressant qualities after routine exposure? Although research supposes at this time the source must stay the same due to the chemical output of the source, which could make it unsteady. In a study, of women who had a partner go through a vasectomy, there was actually a significant percentage of them who then had a rise in depressive and even suicidal symptoms. Not everyone, but it appears it might be a vulnerability. The reverse is also true, the intake of such improves mental function and mood.”

“For the girl?” He asked. 

“Yeah, well,  _ any _ recipient is the main beneficiary of it. Swallowing, though, does not appear to have this effect because of acid deconstruction, although we know oral contraceptives can survive, so it might be a dosage issue. What matters is it passes relatively easily into the body through a membrane rather than through digestion. Of course, the donor source also gets the benefit of orgasm. That is obviously a major plus for the body and brain, besides just being pleasant.”

He blinked, “That’s actually really cool. What benefits are there?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Like, clearly people are getting into it, I guess, so what specifics are there?” Charlie asked. 

“People are- oh, I know what you mean now. I don’t think there is that much to do with the girls you have flings with because the data suggests it has to be relatively back to back with the same source, almost similar to medication. Back to back doesn’t mean the same days or every night, but on average two to three times a week is considered average for a millennial age group.”

“Aw,” he responded. 

“Regardless, I think that’s actually pretty fascinating. Sex in general can help the brain strengthen neural pathways. Considering that after a certain age, the brain actually begins to get rid of neural connections in favor of stronger ones, a process called pruning, this could be a crucial factor in maintaining cognitive function in age. Plus, the act between two, or more, people would make the brain release oxytocin, although this is more significant in the prototypical female body because it plays into lactation and birth. That’s the ‘cuddle-drug’ or ‘love-drug’ whatever people want to call it because it strengthens social bonds and receptiveness to people. Plus, this entire process of orgasm and such strengthens the reactivity of the cerebellum. This function is correlated to the effects of emotional processing. This also ultimately improves memory recall, too. Interestingly, exposure to semen on the other hand has direct brain improvement too like an orgasm, beyond that of antidepressant qualities. It improves cognitive functioning skills like attention and focus, but also it builds the hippocampus, an area responsible for emotions and memory. This also sharpens verbal skills and mental recognition. In fact, it is suggested this may be a possible reparative ‘therapy’ for mild brain traumas because the exposure to semen contains a molecule that regulates the growth and maintenance of brain cells. Apparently, the molecules travel almost directly through the hypothalamus. If you don’t know, that’s an area responsible for emotional regulation, sexual behavior, stress control, and other hormonal responses. There’s more of course.” 

Awestruck, Charlie nodded and gave me an impressed gaze out of the corner of his eye, “Alright, first of all,  _ wow _ . Second, I didn’t expect an actual lecture.” 

“You told me to tell you about it.” 

He waved, “Okay, but still. I don’t know what to do with that knowledge now, but I appreciate it.” 

I gave a short laugh, “You me both. Useless information is somewhat a strong suit of mine. I hope you know that I can  _ keep going _ .”

After stammering in surprise, Charlie shook his head with a tight, shaky smile, “No, no, that’s fine. I think class is over for today, Professor.” 

“We still have a little under an hour of a drive left,” I stared out the window at the trees. 

“It’ll be over before you know it,” he replied. 

“Boring.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I know, but way better with a friend than alone. Alright…I’ll give in, give me a different lecture to listen to.”

I perked up and looked at him with an eager bounce, “Really? Anything?” 

He nodded. I grinned. He was going to regret it, though. 


	5. Chapter 5

_ Haven’t been here in Albany for a while _ , I thought. While the impulse remains to think things like “oh, I forgot how big it was” or “wow, those buildings really are tall,” you don’t exactly forget that. Instead, it was more accurate to say that compared to the change of pace in New Haven that the city dwarfed you and made you feel disturbingly insignificant. I had felt that way to begin with living here and it wasn’t great to return to it. Although, at least it had insurmountable opportunities for student excellence. I was thankful for that. Sometimes I wondered who lived in our old house. I did appreciate not living in an apartment in an actual house, but I did hate the sense of confinement even that had. Mother always complained about how she  _ settled _ for the location. Also, I wonder if that family has a dog or a cat. I would’ve liked having one as a kid. 

In comparison, I looked out the car window at the brick building adjacent to an expanse of pavement dedicated to being a parking lot. The building was two floors with shop windows along the bottom row and small, domestic windows above. Thick, black metal cages could be seen from the corner of the windows, ready to be drawn across the shopfront and locked in place for security. I knew in addition to this, the Marins had invested in bulletproof glass for the building. That was reasonable. I had seen the place before but I hadn’t ever been inside. There had been times I picked up or dropped off Charlie here in the past as well as times when he would stop by when driving us to get something. It was usually the same:  _ just stay in the car. _

After almost a decade, that would change. 

Charlie parked his Jeep under a short overhang from the building along the back of the lot. After shutting it off, he seemed nervous, “You can go ahead and get your stuff to take in, unless you want to leave it out here. The door to our home area is there.” 

He pointed to a metal door towards the front of his Jeep on the building’s side under the overhang. 

“I assume it’s locked,” I said. 

“Definitely, so I’ll go in ahead of you, obviously. Uhh, I’ll introduce you to my mom first. My dad isn’t here for the week.” 

“I won’t meet him, I assume?” I asked. 

He shook his head, “You won’t. That’s why you are even allowed here. He  _ does not like _ strangers staying but Mom isn’t going to say anything because it’s you.”

I blinked, “He doesn’t even know about it?” 

Charlie gave me a tense smile, “Yeah… not at all.” 

I let out a breath with an  _ oof _ . That was not the best precedent to have set. So, we headed inside. I dragged my luggage tote behind me, letting it roll along on its wheels. In front of me, Charlie unlocked the door and held it open for me. 

“Oh, by the way,” Charlie tapped my arm as I passed. I looked at him expectantly. He continued, “Not that you would, but maybe don’t bring up anything about my rendezvous habits with women at college.”

“Only about the women?” I asked quietly with a raised brow. 

He frowned, “I  _ only _ see women.” 

I kept my eyebrow raised for a moment before it clicked, “ _ Oh… _ I see. I see.” 

He just nodded back at me. I started to think about it. His family must be conservative or traditional. That might’ve been why he didn’t want me to meet them. I didn’t do anything to upset that type of crowd necessarily but I could easily say things to upset them, especially if I counter it with logic. At least, in my opinion, it’s logic. 

“I won’t try to offend your mom,” I promised. 

“Yeah, I was about to say something about that. Try not to flaunt your intelligence or anything. Cous’ Rayelle won’t be as much of a problem but my mom maybe.” 

I promised him again. 

The first floor of the establishment was split with almost two-thirds of it winding up front in a slight U-shape where the store was located and the rest being set up past the walls as a living room on the side we entered from. From the center, a staircase that twisted partially, only minimally enough not to be a spiral, led to the second floor where the rest of the rooms were. Towards the back of the building by the door we entered through, a jutted out entryway to the basement stood. On the first floor, the kitchen was along the farthest back with the dining room separating the living room from it. The living room wasn’t giant, but big enough for a sectional couch and an entertainment area display along the wall. I saw a large red-plaid bag slumped in the corner of the couch with a heavier maroon peacoat hanging off the side. Given the appearance, I guessed it was Charlie’s cousin’s. 

Charlie waved me on, “Come on, they must be either up at the front or upstairs. Let’s drag your luggage up to my room first.”

“Your room?” I asked. 

“Yeah? I didn’t think we’d just leave it hanging around somewhere down here and you didn’t want it in the car, not that it makes sense to run out and back from the car for a week.” 

“Oh,” I lazed my gaze from the couch then from him, “I guess your cousin must be staying on the couch down here.”

Charlie blinked, “Uh, yeah. I must’ve not mentioned we don’t have a spare bedroom. I mean, we do have the basement but you really don’t want to stay down there. First of all, not heated and it’s winter. Second of all, there is an old couch down there with another TV set up, mostly for games, but it’s musty and we keep a lot of boxes and files down there. Spiders… Sometimes these creepy cricket things that kinda look like grasshoppers but they aren’t grasshoppers? Huge, huge back legs and these round striped brown bodies. They are more of a summer problem, but I wonder where they go year round…”

“You have  _ what-the-fuck _ are you talking about in your  _ basement _ ?” A spooked chill ran through me when I looked over at the basement door. 

He just shrugged. 

“Rayelle’s scared of them. We had a cat once that would eat them. The cat is dead now, though.” 

I took a step back in fright, “They killed the cat?!”

“Huh, no?” Charlie started walking towards the stairs and took a step up, “He died of old age at twenty-one.” 

“ _ Charlie _ !” I scolded him, “You cannot phrase things like that! It construes an entirely different message about the safety hazard of these… hellspawn.” 

“Are you scared of the lil’ crickets?” My friend teased. I made a frustrated groan and started to respond before he shook his head at me. Then he dropped the smile to be more sincere, “Nah, though, completely understood, they creep me out, too. It’s fine, it’s winter. Chances are incredibly slim.” 

He headed up in silence following that. I dragged my case up behind him slowly. Frustrated, I lifted it with both arms and hugged it to me instead of trying to drag it up the stairs. 

“Wait, you had a cat?” I asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t remember you having a cat,” I told him. 

“I don’t really see many opportunities or reasons to bring him up, besides,” he shrugged passively, “you aren’t always the best listener.” 

I huffed. I didn’t think I was that bad of a listener. In a way, I wondered if he was implying I was selfish. 

On the top of the stairs, I was immediately greeted by a doorway to a room and a hallway to my right. Down the hall, there were two more doors, one on each side. The further one down across from me had a padlock hanging from a slip over door lock, securing it in place.

“That,” Charlie pointed when he saw my confused stare, “is my dad’s office. He keeps really important stuff in there so it’s always locked. Just don’t bother it. Don’t worry about it. It used to be my room.”

I nodded. He continued down the short hallway. To my left by the office door, a short cushioned day seat spanned the wall, but nothing big enough to sleep on. Beside it, in the corner, there was a small recliner stuffed next to a tall bookshelf and lamp. 

“Mom’s reading nook. It’s quieter than the first floor.” 

To our right, Charlie opened the last door and pushed it open.  _ His room _ . 

“So, the office used to be your room?” I asked as I dragged my luggage along, unable to keep cringing at the bright orange carpet of the hallway. 

“Yeah,” Charlie replied, “and this was Chase’s. This room and the master, the one across the stairs, obviously, both have attached bathrooms. This one is only toilet, sink, and shower, but the other is a regular full with bathtub and countertop space. Since he was firstborn, he got the better of the two. The first floor has a mini bathroom beside the basement stairs. I forget about it sometimes since I’ve been gone.” 

“Ah,” I looked around. The walls were a sandy, toffee color with ivory toned popcorn ceiling. The carpet below was a dark grey with a warm undertone. 

“If you are surprised by the not-blue-or-pastel colors, I never repainted it,” he suddenly spoke up. I didn’t pry and he didn’t speak further on it. It was obvious he meant he left it the way Chase had decorated it. 

On the other hand, his bed  _ was _ covered in blues. Out of the four, maybe five pillows, there were probably a different shade of blue for each pillow case, a teal bedsheet, untucked, and a light sky blue comforter rolled up at the foot. Those types of colors I expected. 

“Why do you like such bright colors? Specifically pastels like that,” I set my luggage by the bed as Charlie sat down on it. 

“I am a bright person.” 

“Bright as in chipper, right?” I replied, crossing my arms passively. 

He huffed in indignation, “Are you calling me stupid?” 

“No,” now I waved at him, like he often did towards me, “I  _ totally _ didn’t imply bright as in intelligence.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck my nose up at him. Not long after, Charlie suddenly clapped his hands, “Oh, yeah, let’s go find Mom and Rayelle. I know she’s here and Mom is… like… never  _ not _ here.”

“Okay,” I followed after him once he hopped up from his spot in excitement. As I left the room, I was already thinking about tonight. The carpet was clean, somewhat better than I expected. Based on the texture under my feet, it was decently well worn and soft. Sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be all that bad. Now, had he had hardwood flooring, it may have been less tolerable, but even that would be nicer than an extra week with my mother in Columbus. I think a stiff neck and sore back would be better than existential loathing. 

“Charles, dear!” I heard a woman’s voice ring out and take me out of my thoughts. I looked up. A short, blonde woman stood in the doorway of the master bedroom hugging viciously onto Charlie. He smiled and hugged back with an equal level of joy. 

“Hi Mom,” he said, still clung to by her. 

“It’s been too long!” She fawned with a tone of sadness with a gentle sway of her head. She had the same wavy, almost curling hair texture as her son, but the color was much darker and brighter than his pale, straw-like hair. She had darker, greenish blue eyes too. Unlike Charlie, though, her skin was a fair, light medium compared to his natural affinity to tan. 

I slowly walked up to the pair. I looked myself over for a moment, wondering if I was presentable. Black high top converse? Not too casual or professional. Dark, well fit jeans? Sensible. A checkered blue and white dress shirt under a black long-sleeved sweater allowing only the collar and cuffs to show? Eh, nice, but I’m sure the only discrepancy would be in personal style choices. I brushed my hand over my hair, too. I didn’t want her to dislike me, afterall. After eight years, the last thing I wanted was to cause Charlie any issues at home. 

“Hello, you,” she turned to me, “It is  _ long _ ,  _ long, long _ overdue. I’m Irene Marin, Charles’ mom. I’m sure you knew that. Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. It’s been nice knowing Charles has someone there for him so far away. I wish he had chosen to be closer and not so far away from us.” 

She frowned and looked up at Charlie. 

“New Haven is not that far from here. Two hours is not-“ I hissed as Charlie suddenly kicked my ankle in a swift movement. His mom slowly blinked, looking from him to me as if she was confused and not aware of anything that just happened. I grit my teeth and stopped talking with a tight, uneasy smile. Charlie directed a hateful glare at me before returning to sweet. 

_ What the hell was that? _

“I miss my babies,” Irene went back to her fawning. 

“I know, I know, Mom,” Charlie patted her head. 

“At least Rayelle, the darling, visits me. She knows to stay with family and not run off to some university ages away. We can provide everything for you, why worry about all that?” 

Charlie nervously laughed, “Mom, settle down, it’s alright. C’mon, where is Rayelle? We should find her.”

“Mmm,” his mom thought before disregarding him and looking back at me. I felt a matched nervousness now, worrying I’d say something wrong again. “What do you do?”

“I am a pre-med undergraduate. I, uhh, am studying medicine and all that stuff.” The entire time, I watched Charlie for any ill reactions. So far, fine, “I don’t really do much besides that. I just do school work and hang out with your son.”

“Oh, Charles?” She asked when I said that. 

“Y-yeah, Charlie,” I replied.  _ No, obviously the dead one. What other son could there be? Ouch, wait, that was cruel to think.  _ Charlie was nodding warily behind her at me. 

“Oh, good, he needs someone loyal, especially someone willing to work with him so closely. You guys could be business partners. You do… medicine? Does that include all types?”

“All types? Like, what else… herbs and drugs?”

“Yeah,” she softly agreed. 

“Technically, yes, but not my focus.”

“Helpful,” she quietly responded and patted her heavily-ringed hand on Charlie’s shoulder, who in response was shaking his head quickly down at her. Charlie and I met each other’s eyes. He knew I had a plethora of questions already. 

Without further response, she walked to the staircase and descended. I couldn’t help but notice an odd texture on the canvas paintings lining the hall by the stairwell, but I couldn’t place it. 

Charlie looked over at me and shrugged, “Sorry about her, she’s a bit too fond of her anxiety medication. Ever since my brother died, sometimes she takes them more than she should and gets loopy like that.”

“She okay?” I asked. 

He nodded and then was quiet. He then gestured towards the stairs, “Well, let’s go find my cousin. I think you’ll like her.” 

I obliged and followed Charlie down the semi-spiral stairs, looking forward to meeting Rayelle. 

* * *

NOTE: House floor plans to be added later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being short, but I wanted to put it out.


	6. Chapter 6

“Did you have to kick me?” I quietly asked Charlie as we descended the stairs. His mother, Irene, was already somewhere ahead of us out of sight. 

He sighed at me, “Yeah. Don’t argue with her. That’s a fast track to getting her to resent you.”

“Does she… not know you go to Yale? That you room with me?” I asked. 

He raised his eyebrows, “Oh, yeah, she knows. She definitely knows. After all, she was one of the first I had to convince to get me in. She just despises the idea. Anything over, say, thirty minutes away is basically abandoning her. Reminding her that it’s more like two hours away was not in either of our best interests.” 

I paused, listening to him. My ankle somewhat ached from his strike. I mulled over the information before halted for a second. “Wait, to get you in? What do you mean?” 

Charlie looked at me with a shocked expression, “Oh! Misphrased. You know… uhh, application?” 

“You needed your mom to apply?”

He motioned with his hands, trying to think of a response, before just shrugging and choosing not to answer me. I huffed in frustration at his silence. 

“Your mom is a bit strange,” I admitted. 

Charlie tilted his head and stood at the bottom of the stairs as I joined him. He twitched his smile and bobbed his head in thought. He shrugged again. I started to say something before he finally spoke up. 

“You know, you are the first non-family or family-friend to have visited here since Chase was a kid? With that in mind, no wonder it’s a bit strange. Mom didn’t mind, by the way, when I told her the plan to have you stay. Although, I think she got anxious about something going wrong.”

“What would go wrong?” 

My friend hummed, “Well, you know, anything. Dad finding out, for example.” 

“Do you know how sketchy everything feels especially at the moment?” I insisted. We stood there looking at each other. 

Charlie took a slow breath, “Yeah, I could see that. I could see why.” 

“Should I know something?” I asked again. 

For a moment, Charlie’s eyebrow quivered and his smile twitched. He tensed his jaw in the suspense, making me feel uncomfortably nervous about the pause. His eyes diverted away from me towards the ground for a moment before coming back up, “No, I don’t think so. Not at the moment.”

After that response, I pointed at him, “You _seriously_ mean that?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“That,” I shook my head, “is not the saying.”

With a shrug, he smiled, “It’s accurate.”

He kept walking beyond me but I stood there, looking down at the ground, feeling a slowly creeping wave of disappointment overcome me. The longer I looked at the horridly patterned grey carpet beneath my Converse, the worse I started to feel. Wanting to swing my arms, I crossed them instead across my chest. For a moment, I focused on the feeling of my own fast heartbeat against my wrist over anything else. 

Ahead of me, Charlie looked back towards me. When he did, his playful smile fell. Tension started to build, which made me instinctually think I should drop my posture, smile, and go back to normal, but I also told myself I shouldn’t just play along. Even in the silence of feeling upset towards my friend, I was already fighting myself over appeasement versus agency. 

“Did I do something…” Charlie spoke up as he returned to me. 

I squinted and tightened my jaw, trying to think of what to say. _Now what? You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Did you think that far ahead?_ I scolded myself. Then, I reeled back. _Obviously, be honest._

“I know you are lying to me,” I said quietly, “so, why are you lying to me? Do you not trust me?”

Charlie’s eyebrows were arched high and tense. His eyes were open just like his mouth, but neither moved. He didn’t look away or respond. Instead, my friend stood there, awkwardly frozen. 

“I relented and came here, but you haven’t even acted like yourself this entire time, so what is it? What’s the point of me being here if you aren’t going to be cool about it?” I finally lifted up my head to look at him full on. 

With his mouth upturned, he now diverted his gaze and slumped his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” _Damnit, why are you apologizing to him?_ I sighed. I continued, “I just feel really out of place and really strange about a lot of stuff that is being said… so…”

Charlie suddenly hugged me. I let out an exasperated huff, knowing damn well I should expect this type of reaction from him but it didn’t make it less frustrating. He squished, making my upper spine crackle a few times. I squirmed a bit but he rested his head on my shoulder for the time being. As usual towards him, I gave up. Sometimes I felt like the old house cat that had to put up with the new family Golden Retriever. You really couldn’t hate him for long. 

_Wait, no, don’t just drop it. There is so much sketchy stuff, like-_

“Sorry, can we talk later? There’s a lot I want to talk about. Nothing… bad? I mean maybe it is bad but not about now. I’m feeling out of place myself and I am caught up worrying about some stuff, okay? Try not to read into it too much,” Charlie told me in a low, gentle voice. 

“Alright, I trust you, not that I ever wouldn’t,” I responded. 

To that, Charlie pulled away with a smile, but his eyebrow flicked up for a moment as he looked away then back. He just told me not to read into it and yet I felt even more incentive to do that very thing. Maybe I really was a cat and curiosity was going to kill me. 

“Actually, did you know,” I started to say as Charlie stepped back, still keeping a hand on my shoulder before I picked it up and tossed it off, “that the saying ' _Curiosity killed the cat_ ’ is only the first half of the phrase? The original usage of the phrase did stop there from around the late 1500’s and early 1600’s but early 1900’s suddenly they tacked on ‘ _but satisfaction brought it back_ ’ to make it different. For example, Stephen King references the newer version in _The Shining_. That’s interesting that the phrase in whole could either be a proverbial warning or an encouragement.” 

I got a slow blink in response. 

“I know better than to ask where that came from, so I am only going to say thank you for that, uhhh, new information?” Charlie patted my head but I swiped at the air to ward him off from doing it again. 

“Stop that!” 

“Aw,” he smiled happily at me. I couldn’t resist relaxing my posture and smiling back at him. He then tilted his head, “I don’t remember that in the movie, though.” 

“I’m not sure if it’s in the movie, I haven’t seen it.”

He paused, “What? But how did you know the quote then?”

I scoffed, “King wrote the books that the movies are based off. I read the books. Not all of them, but a good amount, until Mother threw a fit and confiscated them over me wasting intellectual potential on cheap horror.” 

I rolled my eyes at the memory. She really was a stuck-up bitch, but forbid ever confronting her on it. I needed to be careful doing that. I was going to slip one of these days and say something.

“That’s boring.”

“I know.” 

We both looked around before going back to walking. I felt like the conversation had taken up a moderate amount of time and yet his mom had disappeared looking for his cousin without questioning us having fallen back. At the bottom of the stairs, the room opened up into the living room. Behind us was a hearth-like set up with photo frames lining the top with other decorations. Beyond that, I looked at the various doorways like those into the storefront and the door outside, waiting for a sign of movement. I figured they must be at the front of the building given the silence. That was partially reassuring knowing that no one likely heard that strange interaction. I didn’t want the Marins to think I was judging or questioning them after all. Was I though? Perhaps a little bit. 

Charlie stepped back and looked at the photos lined up. I started to as well when I saw Charlie suddenly nearly trip forward with force as someone leapt onto his back. She was a girl about a head shorter than me with her arms wrapped around Charlie’s neck and a bright, gleeful smile. Her hair was bobbed off about an inch above the shoulder with natural waves making the tips flare out. She cut her bangs to lay low across her face almost covering her eyebrows. Parted away, on both sides a long strip of hair framed her face and came to a point separated from the rest. Contrasted to Charlie, her hair was instead a light ashen-honey. Comparably to both Irene and Charlie, she had the darkest hair I had seen thus far in the family. 

“Ray! Choking me!” Charlie gasped. 

Rayelle laughed it off and let up slightly but kept her grip around him to keep from falling back. 

“Children!” Irene suddenly hissed from the kitchen, where they both must have emerged from. The kitchen _had_ been behind us. 

Rayelle limply let go in disappointment, frowning. She looked at Irene as Charlie let her down before looking over at me, quickly eyeing me up and down. Rayelle looked back to her aunt. 

“You are older,” Irene torted, “You should know better.”

“That’s bizarre,” Rayelle apathetically replied, “I do that all the time and you never care.” 

“We have a _guest_.” 

“Which is _even more bizarre_ !” Rayelle made a wide arch in the air with her hands as she whined, “How many times has Uncle Antony said ‘ _You don’t bring anyone over into the actual house unless you are engaged, going to be parents, or family_.’ Huh? So many times!” 

“Yeah, but my dad isn’t here, which is not very common during school breaks when I would be home… and Mom said I could, so?” Charlie teased her back. 

“So? Aunt Irene can I bring a friend, too?” Rayelle crossed her arms. 

Irene shook her head and flicked her hand across the air with a click of her tongue, “Not right now, no. Don’t get snotty.” 

Rayelle groaned. Irene clapped her hands with a smile despite having an obvious glare at Charlie’s older cousin. After shaking her head at her niece, Irene hummed, “Alright, I’ll leave you all be. I’m going back to my room.” 

Irene reached into the inner lining of the cardigan she was wearing, pulled a pack of cigarettes out, and fished for one before slowly walking up the stairs. I heard the rattle and hiss of a lighter as she went out of sight. Despite now being heavily aware of the smell of smoke, no one else seemed to be phased. 

Charlie and Rayelle went back to glaring at each other as well. I could tell, however, it wasn’t anything of actual anger. They appeared to squabble like siblings. Besides, Charlie was not one to have ever gotten genuinely furious with someone. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him actually angry, although today has come awfully close a few times to me of all people. 

“ _E_ _ngaged_. Going to be _parents_. Or _family_ ,” Rayelle poked Charlie harshly in the chest. She came up to about his chin in height, but I couldn’t tell if the fluff of her hair was deceptively giving her another inch or not. 

Charlie grinned at her. He was enjoying her vexation. 

Suddenly, she gasped with a devious smile, “Oh, unless you _are_ engaged.” 

Charlie crossed his arms and brought his shoulders back, making him gain extra height above her, “So what, maybe? What would you do about it?” 

I lifted my hand in the air, wondering what to say but ultimately stayed out of it. 

Rayelle looked back at me, looking me over once more, before addressing her cousin, “Well, if you _must_ know? First of all, you could do better.”

I choked back a noise of shock. She went on. 

“I mean, look at him. Sure, the lights are probably not doing him any favors but…” She looked at me, “Did the printer run out of color when they made you or did they only want to pay for black and white?” 

I made a small whimper noise, “Ah! I… my hair is dark brown.”

She rolled her eyes, “Close enough. And second of all, a _guy_? I mean, okay, you got me, I know you are joking. That would be ridiculous.”

Charlie only briefly ground his teeth, something I noticed for only a second, before he laughed at her, “Well, obviously. Besides, you are probably right that I could do better if I tried. This one is sulky and prudish.” 

“I can hear you guys. I am right here,” I tried to interject. He’s covering up himself but he didn’t have to also play along with insulting me. In fact, while I know he was being playful, part of me was doubting what was a lie anymore. Even if it was paranoid, I started to feel genuinely bad about his comment, especially in addition to his cousin mocking me, too. 

Rayelle looked at me with a pitiful frown, “Sorry, sometimes us family can be harsh.”

“I noticed,” I quietly responded, looking over at Charlie for a moment. Charlie had a normal grin but it faltered at that moment. I swallowed nervously, “Uhh, so you are Rayelle, right?”

She nodded, “Rayelle. I was named after my dad, Raymond. He was named after his dad, Rayburn. My mom got to pick my middle name. So, Rayelle Rhiannon.” 

“Like the Fleetwood Mac song or the goddess?” I asked. 

“The song. You think a Catholic would knowingly name a kid after some pagan Celtic goddess?”

I nodded. She had a fair point. 

“Good song though,” I shrugged. 

“That it is,” she brushed her hair back over an ear, “Charlie called me Ray as a kid, so I stick to that. Mostly because people think my name is pronounced like ‘royal’ when it isn’t, so it’s easier. In return, I was _oh so creative_ and dubbed him Charlie. Chase definitely helped.” 

Charlie shrugged, “To be fair, neither of those are altogether very creative nicknames.” 

Rayelle agreed. “Anyway, and you are?” 

“Huh?” I asked. 

“Introduce yourself. I did. I know _of_ you, but obviously I don’t _know_ you. I could have, but someone told me to stay away in high school,” Rayelle blinked passive-aggressively with a head tilt at Charlie. 

“Ah,” _Ask about that later._ “I’m Adam. Rollins. There’s nothing interesting about my name origins except my father wanted to name me Keith and my mother said it didn’t sound professional enough but she was out of it after I was born so Keith is my middle name. They also got in a fight over it. On the other hand, my younger brother is named Linus like the Nobel Prize-winning chemist but his middle name is Frost like Robert Frost. Once again, my dad did that. That is definitely more fun of a name.” 

“Hmm,” she droned, “you honestly sound boring. Tell me something else.” 

“I go to Yale with Charlie. I am a pre-med undergraduate. Uhh, sorry I actually can’t think of anything interesting.” 

Charlie gave me a sad pat on the shoulder, “You can be a little boring.” 

“I’m not trying to be,” I whined. I looked back to Ray, noticing the green tint to the bright Marin blue of her eyes. Honestly, there for a second, I realized I thought she was rather attractive. In fact, withdrawing from the overarching category of viewing her as Charlie’s cousin, I actually saw her as more of a person. 

That thought almost worried me. Did I just not see people as people? No, that’s not what I meant. I discounted her as a family member and stopped recognizing her for anything else. 

“You good?” Charlie asked me. I blinked. 

“Yeah?” He wasn’t looking at my eyes but instead at my face, which I noticed did feel somewhat hot. _Oh. I am blushing._ “Sorry, I was just thinking about-“

My phone started ringing. I jumped a bit, taken by surprise. Normally, people just text me. Who would be calling me? Charlie even looked surprised hearing my phone chime from my pocket. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the screen. My stomach dropped and already began to ache in anxiety seeing my mother’s photo on the screen and her name in bold letters across the top. My hand shook, wondering if I should let it ring. _No_! That would be my own death sentence to ignore her. Besides, the thought made me feel sick. 

“I-I should answer her. I’m going to step outside,” I nervously bowed and walked towards the door. 

“You want me to come with?” Charlie asked as I walked to the door. I shook my head at him and left. 

Outside, I pushed the green button on the screen and held my phone to my ear. There wasn’t a sound at first. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“You weren’t going to answer, were you?” My mother’s voice was flat and accusing at the same time. 

“What? No, I just had to walk outside. I didn’t want to be rude.” 

She went on, “Where are you right now?” 

“Albany, with Charlie? Didn’t your husband tell you?” 

She made a low growling noise before scoffing, “I found out now. What, you just aren’t coming home now? Running away?” 

I noticed at that moment that I wasn’t standing by the door anymore. I had walked into the lot and was pacing in a wide circle. 

“I am coming home. I just am staying here for a week. That’s not a big deal.” 

“Oh! _You_ get to decide what is or isn’t a big deal?” She snapped. “I get told my oldest son isn’t going to come home right away and he didn’t even bother to tell me?” 

“I forgot, I just thought you would know.” _Actually, I was afraid to tell you._

“You just forgot?! What else are you just carelessly forgetting? I knew you tend to slack off but that is unforgivable. This is not how I raised you.” 

I grit my teeth tight, almost shaking. “I do not slack off. I always work hard. I work almost too much, in fact.” 

She barked, “Are you arguing with me?” 

“Maybe! Maybe I am!” _Chill out. On thin ice._

“Oh, oh, I see now. Both of you insolent, ungrateful children both want to go through some useless rebellious streak now to spite me. Did you plan this?”

“Ungrateful? Rebellious? I- No! This isn’t some secret coup against you to personally spite you. I have done _nothing_ to spite you. I have done nothing!”

I thrashed my left fist through the air as I talked and walked faster. The cold breeze whipped through my hair and made my eyes sting when I walked into the direction it came from. Already, I regretted not having a jacket out here. 

_Please don’t cry. It’ll freeze with your luck._

“All I am doing,” I took a steady breath, “is staying with my friend for a week. That is it. That’s no different than if the semester was a week longer.” 

My mother was quiet before going back to calm and cruel, “You must be the bad influence on your brother. Did you know he mutilated his ears? He went off and got holes hacked into them, just like that _friend_ of yours has. Worse! He has it through the cartilage, too! Disgusting. I didn’t think your brother had that low of intelligence to ruin his appearance like that.” 

I almost didn’t notice my eyes had teared up. I felt numb, almost a painfully sharp numb, listening to her insult Linus and then Charlie by association.

“Well?” She cleared her throat. 

“Mother… what do you want me to do about it?” 

“Clearly once you get your act together to come home and put him in his place. At least you haven’t massacred your ears. You wouldn’t. Your brother was hiding it from me, in fact, like I wouldn’t find out.” 

I felt cold. The wind hit me but the chill was harsher within. 

At that moment, I felt like something snapped, as if I fell through the emotional thin ice under me, or as if a line wrung too taut severed. “Actually, Mother, did you know I have a tattoo?” 

“You better be lying to me,” she growled into the speaker. 

“No, in fact, I got it years ago. I’ve hidden it from you. Does that make you happy? Knowing your own children have to hide things from you to be happy? Did you forget that people do things just to be _happy_?”

 _The absolute_ fuck _are you doing right now?! Shut up, shut up, shut up._

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand as I gripped a fist so tight it hurt. She almost didn’t respond. My face and eyes hurt from the wind building up as the sun was going lower in the sky. I sniffled. 

“Are you crying?” She asked suddenly. 

“No,” I quickly responded, although I thought I was, “my nose is running from the cold wind.” 

“Good.” That was all she responded. _Fuck you, too._ Wow, I was feeling hostile. “So, you ruined yourself too, huh? Are you going to do anything else to ruin your body? What’s next to spite me-“

“I didn’t do this to spite you, for fuck’s sake, Mother!” I shouted into the phone. My heart rate spiked and I was shaky. Quickly, I heard rushing blood through my ears. Mixed with the chilling wind, pounding heart, and shock at my own behavior, my mother’s response was dead to me. I registered none of it. I didn’t want to. The phone trembled against my face nonetheless. 

I was near jogging if I walked any faster. I was breathing harder as I traversed the lot. 

“-about my parenting that makes you want to rebel like this? I’ve done nothing but help you towards success. Fine! My help makes you want to run away and rebel? So be it-“

“No,” I started smiling, not from happiness, but for some reason I couldn’t figure out what to do. I was smiling uneasily from the stress and impulse. Even though I said something, she continued to rant. I interjected into her rant, laughing for a short moment before clearing my throat, “Your so-called help doesn’t make me want to rebel, it makes me want to die!” 

My throat ached. I hadn’t meant to shout that. After a few more words, showing she wasn’t initially listening to me, she suddenly hesitated, “Excuse me? What did you say to me?” 

Horror started to overwhelm me when I realized what I said. I didn’t mean that, right? Why did I say something like that to her? _Why did I say that? I don’t… I don’t mean that… right?_

Very quietly, as I slowly came to a stop feeling sickened dizzy with fear, I repeated it calmly, “You… make me want to die.” 

“We are going to have a long talk about how you treat me when you come home, got it?” 

In a slow, low voice more of a breath than a statement, I whispered, “I’d rather die.” 

She didn’t hear it. At least, I hoped she didn’t. If she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. If a parent heard that, they’d respond… they’d care… they wouldn’t… hang up. I blinked and pulled the phone from my face. I looked down into the screen. She really did. She hung up on me. 

In a fit of emotion, I raised my arm and started to throw my phone into the concrete below but I thankfully halted myself instead. I suddenly started hyperventilating, thinking about how close I just came to crushing a thousand dollar phone into the concrete below. I quickly shoved the phone into my pocket to prevent me from doing anything like that. I tried to control my breathing and calm down, but I was finding it increasingly hard out here. The wind had let up, but I still felt horrible. 

_Okay, okay. Deep breath. I need to go back inside._ I looked towards the bright blue Jeep and the door next to it. Quickly I walked up to it and sniffled a few times before going for the door. I hadn’t even touched it when it swung open. Charlie held the door open. I wiped at my face and walked past him. 

“Adam?” He asked. 

I ignored him, instead walking straight ahead. A quick glance around the room revealed that Rayelle was gone. I didn’t know where she went, obviously, but she must’ve taken leave because of me stepping out. 

“Seriously, Adam,” Charlie grabbed my shoulders from behind me. Startled, I tensed up. I hadn’t even noticed him get that close to me. My emotional stability was going haywire and I must’ve let it slip from my perception. 

I jerked myself forward. Instead, he angrily grabbed my shoulders again and spun me around to face him. My heart had only begun to simmer down but now it had skyrocketed again. I couldn’t catch my breath after the incident outside now, meaning I stood there with strange heavy yet raspy breaths. Feeling like I was staring with my mouth agape, I clamped my jaw shut and forced myself to breathe slower. I had to scrunch my eyes shut to get a grasp on it. Despite that, Charlie shook my shoulders. I tried to back up, but he kept me there. 

“Let me go!” I cried. My voice absolutely betrayed me. There was no faking okay. I coughed and swallowed to soothe over the roughness in my throat. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Charlie responded. He looked both terrifyingly stern and concerned. I didn’t know what to do. 

“Listen, you are scaring me, so let me go!” I responded again and tried to turn away. 

He did lessen up his grip but he didn’t let go. Overall, however, he softened, “You are scaring _me_.”

“I’m just upset. That happens,” I was focusing on the feeling in my chest, whether it be my unsettling painful heartbeat or the tight, heavy numb that felt like I could choke on it. 

“I just listened to you angrily shout at your mom.”

“You were listening?” 

Charlie was quiet, “I was waiting by the door. There is a peephole, too. I watched you race in circles in the lot and almost try to smash your phone. I heard everything you said. I don’t need to know what she said.” 

I dipped, bobbing on a knee, when he said that. He heard everything. He watched. I felt weak. I never wanted to look that pathetic in front of anyone, let alone observed by someone I was trying to pacify and convince I was fine. _Which I was. I am. I am fine._

“I didn’t… mean any of it. Let me just go. Maybe I should just head home tomorrow.” 

Charlie had taken his left hand away but his right, dominant hand suddenly grasped down on my shoulder with force, “No, you're not. You are not running back just to appease her.”

“It’s fine.”

“And who is lying now?” Charlie responded, looking down at my face. I didn’t look at him. “I said I heard you. I don’t have to repeat it, but you and I both know what you said. Your mom might not have cared, I assume, but don’t act like I can’t.” 

“I didn’t mean it. I said so,” I murmured. 

“Then why would you get so upset over a conversation that you would resort to making something like that up, especially something that would only backfire against you if so?” Charlie asked. 

“I don’t know. Stress?” 

Charlie took a deep breath and relaxed his grip. He really wanted to trust me, I could tell. I wanted him to trust me, too. In the silence, we both looked off and away in different directions, as if we couldn’t look at each other. The emotional state was tense, but also unreadable. There was something more, but I couldn’t place it. When I looked at him finally, he looked so eerily haunted. I almost worried about him thinking that way, but that couldn’t be the case. I shivered nonetheless. I caught his gaze and turned my head to follow it. He was seeming to reminisce staring into one of the framed photographs along the decor. 

“Charlie?” I asked. This time, I mimicked him and put my hand on his shoulder. That made him pull out of his thoughts and look back at me. I typically didn’t go for being the one to initiate contact with people. The gloom had quickly faded to a gentle confusion. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we just maybe start to turn in for the night? I know something is bothering you, but I don’t know what. I don’t think it’s just about me, is it?” 

He shook his head, “You are right… Yeah, let’s go to my room. It is late, I guess, isn’t it?” 

I nodded, “We can talk later, you know.”

He also nodded. I didn’t care about how I felt. If anything, I couldn’t be happy knowing something was so clearly haunting him. 


End file.
